807.75 
W^Slse 

7008^ 


Webb,  C.  H. 

Sea-weed  and  what 
we  seed 


tfuJ*Cf  BRUCE, 

*l«l»"». ' 


JTJST      r»  TIB  LISHED, 
A    NEW    BOOK, 

Uniform  with  this  Volume,  and  by  the  same  Author, 

ENTITLED 

PARODIES. 

(PROSE  AND  VERSE.) 
13  y       JOHN"      P^VTJL. 


UfCLUDINO 


LIFFITH     LANK,     ST.    TWEL'MO,     A     WICKED 
WOMAN,     ETC.,    ETC. 


Price,  $1.50. 

G.  \V.  CARLETON  &  CO.,  Publlttbers, 
York. 


S  E  A-  W  E  E  D 

AND 

WHAT   WE    SEED. 

MY  VACATION 

AT 

LONG  BRANCH  AND  SARATOGA. 
c\*)eVA>  >  CVfl^  .  t-Wt  vi  ^ 

BY 

"JOHN      PAUL" 


(CHAKLES  H.  WEBB), 

AUTHOR    OF 


"Liffith  Lank,"  "St.  Twer  mo,"  "A  Wicked  Woman," 
etc.,  etc. 


NEW   YORK: 

G.    W.    Carleton  <S*    Co.,  Publishers, 

LONDON:    LOW   &  CO. 
MDCCCLXXVI. 


PREFACE. 

THAT  which  we  now  entitle  "  Preface  of  a  Book"  was 
once  known  as  the  "  Argument " — perhaps  because  it 
was  held  that  a  good  deal  of  argument  is  necessary 
to  prove  that  one  has  any  right  to  put  a  book  upon 
the  public.  That  point  I  will  not  now  argue,  as  the 
burden  rests  on  my  publishers.  But  perhaps  I  had 
better  explain  that  the  loose-letters,  here  bound  and 
sheaved,  appeared  in  the  Ne»v  York  Tribune  dur- 
ing the  summer  just  past,  under  the  title  head  of 
"  JOHN  PAUL'S  VACATION."  Why  so  labelled,  I  do 
not  know,  for  certainly  the  writing  of  them  is  the 
only  work  I  have  done  during  the  year.  Possibly 
"  Vacation  "  was  a  misprint  for  "  Vocation."  Indeed 
it  seems  my  fate  to  drift  round  among  the  watering 
places  every  summer,  writing  letters  which,  in  the 
regular  course  of  nature,  find  their  way  into  Tribune. 
supplements,  within  a  month  or  two  of  being  written. 
As  before  remarked,  last  summer's  work  you  have 
here.  For  all  the  work  and  wisdom  that  went  before 
you  must  goto  "  JOHN  PAUL'S  BOOK,"  a  big  volume, 
published  by  a  large  Hartford  firm  at  an  astonish- 
ingly small  price. 

COPYRIGHT,  1876,   BY 
G.  W.  CARLETON  &  CO.,   NEW  YORK. 


TJRI 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

MY  VACATION.  Arrival  at  Long  Branch — Comparative  at- 
tractions of  Long  Branch  and  the  Pit  called  Bottomless — 
How  long  a  Tanner  may  last  you — Sailing  up  the  Bay 
—The  Hotel  Clerk  of  the  Period 7 

LIFE  AT  LONG  BRANCH.  Bathing  unfashionable  at  the 
West  End — Water  as  a  Motor — Looking  at  the  Sea  and 
talking  of  the  unattainable — The  Bluff — An  Egyptian 
Game 16 

MORAL  REFLECTIONS  APROPOS  OF  LONG  BRANCH. 
How  it  is  hpt— The  Girl  of  the  Dishevelled  Sort— Crabs 
and  Cottages — Possibility  of  being  Virtuous  and  yet  hav- 
ing Cakes  and  Ale — Social  Surgeons — A  Plan  for  mixing 
Society .  .  .  .27 

FISH-HAWKS  AND  FINANCE  AT  LONG  BRANCH.  The 
Fish-Ha-wk  and  the  Hackmen  of  the  Air — The  Young  Wo- 
man who  sits  on  the  Shore — Two  Cap-'talists  on  Inflation 
— Let  into  the  secret  of  Hotel  Management  at  the  Branch  37 

AFTER  THE  REGATTA.  Social  changes  wrought  by  the 
Oarsmen — A  Man  in  his  cups — Silver  cups  and  china 
bowls — Steering  Down  the  Dining-Room  Course — 
Thompson 64 

BANKERS  IN  CONVENTION.  Capitalists  either  Poor  or 
Mean — How  a  proposition  to  pass  round  a  hat  broke 
up  the  Convention — The  Dignity  of  Fishing  —  A  Chil- 
dren's Hop 74 


6  Contents. 

PAGE. 

IN  RACE  WEEK.  The  Races— Luck— The  Crowd— New 
phase  of  the  Slave  Trade — Thompson's  Seasons  ended — 
An  Exclusive  Set — Belles,  Bankers  and  Lions — Jonathan 
Edwards 81 

FINANCE  EXPLAINED  TO  FINANCIERS.  The  Principle  of 
Reaction  illustrated — Stock  Operations  by  the  Rule  of 
Three — The  Failure  of  a  Large  Banking  House — Finan- 
cial Aeronautics — Commodore  Vanderbilt  and  Central — A 
successful  opiate 96 

THE  SPELL  OF  LAKE  SARATOGA.  An  Excursion  with 
Governors  and  Orthography  thrown  in — Kayaderosseras 
— A  Lady  at  the  Scales — Finance no 

THE  SELFISH  SARATOGIAN.  What  Constitutes  a  Bore — 
The  man  who  wants  to  sling  his  Sciatica  at  you  when  you 
want  to  talk  about  your  Rheumatism — At  Cross  Purpose 
with  a  Young  Lady 124 

MINOR  MANNERS  A>:D  MORALS.  Celestal  Phenomena ; 
Rings  in  Heaven — Quidding  and  Quoting — Contraction 
under  Difficulties — Fashions  in  wear  of  Woman's  Hair 
— A  Plea  for  the  Waiter  and  Chambermaid  .  .  .130 

MY  SON.  Jonathan  Edwards  explained — Disappointment 
of  Mrs.  Paul  on  finding  that  the  Girl  was  a  Boy — Confu- 
sion of  names — A  Baby's  fondness  for  exercise  and  lack 
of  moral  sense — My  Son  as  a  Humorist — His  teeth  and 
his  troubles  , 143 

THE  CAREER  OF  A  CALIFORNIAN.  From  Poverty  to 
Power — Ambition  and  its  Lessons — Sumptuous  Living 
and  Marvellous  Hospitality — The  Bank  that  after  all 
was  but  an  Individual — Enormous  aspirations  and  a 
Terrible  Fall 160 

THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  A  REFORMED  PLANCHETTIST     .  172 

VACATION  VERSES.  Autumn  Leaves — The  Fisher's 
Daughter — Sea  and  Shore — Das  Meer  Msedchen  .  .215 


MY    VACATION. 


ARRIVAL  AT  LONG  BRANCH— COMPARATIVE  ATTRAC- 
TIONS OF  LONG  BRANCH  AND  THE  PIT  CALLED 
BOTTOMLESS — HOW  LONG  A  TANNER  MAY  LAST 
YOU — SAILING  UP  THE  BAY — THE  HOTEL  CLERK 
OF  THE  PERIOD. 

JREQUENTLY  I  have  asked  of  myself 
(as  well  as  of  other  personal  friends) 
what  makes  Long  Branch  so  favorite  a 
watering-place.  Ease  of  access,  all  reply.  Now 
I  do  not  see  that  this  explains  it  at  all.  The 
Pit-called  Bottomless  is  proverbially  easy  of 
access,  but  it  has  never  come  into  much  favor 
as  a  good  watering-place.  On  the  contrary, 
does  it  not  stand  glaringly  and  nakedly  forth 
as  perhaps  the  worst  watering-place  to  be 
found  in  the  world  or  out  of  it — if  we  except, 
possibly,  Coney  Island  ?  In  both  places  it 
is  said  that  you  find  scant  vegetation  and  a 
plentiful  lack  of  shade,  and  is  not  this  peculiarity 


8  My   Vacation. 

common  to  Long  Branch  as  well  ?  But  do  not 
for  a  moment  imagine  that  I  am  desirous  of 
drawing  a  parallel  between  Long  Branch  and 
either  of  the  popular  resorts  above  referred  to. 
Shades  of  similarity  exist,  of  course,  but  I  can 
point  you  to  some  very  wide  differences  when  it 
comes  to  narrowing  the  thing  down  fine.  For 
instance,  President  Grant  is  here  and  he  isn't 
there — I  am  sorry  to  say.  Sorry  to  say,  I  say, 
because  the  facilities  for  smoking  on  the  sandy 
reaches  of  Coney  Island  far  exceed  any  which 
this  world — elsewhere — can  offer.  Again,  they 
charge  more  here  and  do  not  really  give  one 
much  better  accommodations  for  the  money. 
Where  it  is  so  hot  that  greenbacks  would  burn, 
a  hotel  proprietor  is  less  intent  on  getting  your 
last  dollar,  I  fancy. 

By  the  way,  did  I  say  President  Grant  was 
here  ?  If  I  did,  I  lied  !  He's  at  Cape  May. 
And  may  it  not  be  that  to  that  may  he  has 
gone  to  indicate  that  under  certain  circum- 
stances he  might — ?  Who  knows  ?  But  may  he 
not  find  doubling  that  cape  a  very  different 
sort  of  thing  from  trebling  a  term  ? 


My    Vacation.  9 

Now  all  of  that  preceding  paragraph  is  ill- 
natured,  nor  am  I  sure  that  it  is  wise.  The 
President  has  never  said  or  done  anything  to 
offend  me — in  fact,  looking  hastily  back  over 
his  career  in  the  chair,  I  am  unable  to  call  to 
mind  that  he  has  ever  said  or  done  much  of  any- 
thing at  all.  As  for  this  third-term  business, 
does  not  the  "  divine  Williams,"  as  the  French 
name  him,  assure  us  positively  that  "  a  tanner 
will  last  you  nine  year  ? "  Surely  then  one  has 
to  stretch  the  skin  of  his  imagination  but  very 
little  to  let  him  last  you  twelve.  So  far  as  per- 
sonal concern  enters  into  the  matter,  I  had  as 
lief  as  not  see  the  Presidential  pantaloons  glued 
to  the  Presidential  chair  were  it  not  for  the 
serious  impediment  this  would  be  to  rising  in 
the  world.  And  insomuch  as  men  may  rise  on 
the  stepping-stones  of  their  dead  shelves  to 
higher  things,  might  he  not  aspire  very  properly 
to  the  Vatican  ?  Sartor  is  Resartus.  I  have 
spoken.  And  I  am  not  averse  to  a  foreign 
consulate,  a  post-office  appointment,  a  clerk-ship 
in  a  drug-store,  or  the  Treasury  Department,  or 
any  other  honorable  and  lucrative  office  that 


i  c  My   Vacation. 

may  be  lying  round  loose  within  the  governmental 
gift. 

But  somehow  it  seems  I  have  branched  away 
from  the  subject ;  to  return  now  to  the  Branch. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  things  about  Long 
Branch  is  the  getting  to  it — the  most  delightful, 
I  should  say,  if  we  except  the  getting  away  from 
it.  The  sail  down  the  bay  is  "  just  lovely,"  as  a 
young  lady  remarked  on  the  boat  last  evening. 
The  "lovely,"  however,  admits  of  qualification. 
It  is  not  just  lovely  unless  you  have  a  lovely  clay 
for  it,  and  lovely  companions,  and  take  a  boat 
earlier  than  the  3  o'clock  one  of  Saturday  after- 
noons, for  that  invariably  comes  laden  with  all 
sorts  of  humanity  (to  say  nothing  of  Wall-st. 
brokers),  rolling  gunnels  under  with  its  freight 
of  capitalists,  bummers,  and  gentlemen  with 
hooked  noses  wearing  glittering  rings  on  dirty 
fingers,  who  confirm  by  loud  appeals  to  the  God 
of  Israel  their  most  trivial  assertions,  smoking 
domestic  cigars  furiously  the  while. 

Think  not  that  I  dislike  the  Jew.  For  the  Jew. 
pure  and  simple,  I  have  a  reverence  and  respect 
that  go  not  forth  similarly  to  embrace  any  other 


My   Vacation.  1 1 

people  on  earth  ;  but  for  the  greasy  creature 
with  tawdry  jewelry  strung  over  execrable  linen, 
and  a  deeper  edge  of  black  round  his  finger-nails 
than  that  which  borders  a  widow's  cards  in  her 
first  mourning — for  this  inexpressible  spectre 
which  no  adjective  can  adequately  describe,  no 
adverb  properly  qualify,  and  no  process  short  of 
cremation  decently  purify — for  this  nauseating 
wretch  who  is  neither  Jew  nor  gentile-man,  I  have 
only  horror  and  disgust. 

Now  let  them  surround  me  on  my  next  trip 
down  the  bay,  poisoning  the  air  with  the  fumes 
of  their  vile  weeds,  and  shouting  their  infamous 
transactions  in  gold  and  stocks  to  each  other 
across  my  unwilling  ears,  and  they'll  be  revenged 
enough.  For  I'll  jump  overboard  if  I  can't  "  get 
shut  "  of  them  any  other  way. 

Soft  blow  the  spicy  breezes, 
From  Blackwell's  blessed  isle ; 

Where  every  woman  wheezes 
And  only  man  is  vile. 

(It  is  not  Blackwell's  Island,  but  Governor's, 
that  we  pass  in  sailing  down  the  bay,  but  Gov- 
ernor's filled  out  the  rhythm  of  the  line  a  little 


12  My   Vacation. 

too  well,  and  the  class  which  people  Blackwell's 
are  really  our  governors  after  all.) 

If  I  owned  a  steam  yacht  I  think  I'd  spend 
the  Summer  months  cruising  between  the  city 
and  Sandy  Hook.  Given  good  weather,  good 
company,  a  store  of  good  provisions,  and  a  good 
store  of  Great  Moral  Organ  supplements,  what 
more  could  the  mind  of  man  ask  for  ! 

As  a  few  words  about  Long  Branch  may  not 
be  inappropiate,  especially  when  it  is  considered 
that  thence  this  letter  is  dated,  perhaps  you  will 
pardon  me  if  I  descend  to  particulars  for  a  mo- 
ment or  two.  Generally  speaking  the  hotels  are 
well  filled.  This  assertion  I  hazard  as  the  result 
of  observation  rather  than  of  inquiry.  The  hotel 
clerk  I  venerate  in  the  abstract,  but  I  am  rather 
afraid  to  approach  him  in  the  concrete.  My  ex- 
perience is  that  when  he  does  not  snub  you  he 
patronizes  you,  and  I'd  about  as  lief  be  killed 
one  way  as  another.  Where  moral  character 
and  that  sort  of  thing  tells,  I  feel  particularly  at 
home,  but  where  a  man  is  judged  only  by  his 
clothes,  confidence  fails  me,  and  I  am  backward 
about  coming  forward. 


My   Vacation.  13 

"  Can  I  have  a  room  ?  "  I  modestly  ask  after 
registering  my  name. 

Clerk  looks  at  me  for  a  moment,  takes  in  the 
general  unostentatiousness  of  my  apparel  at  a 
glance,  turns  away  and  attends  to  the  swells  who 
get  credit  of  Bell  instead  of  buying  for  cash  of 
Porter,  chats  with  the  young  men  whom  he  knows 
for  a  few  minutes,  pauses  to  tell  some  old  gen- 
tleman with  a  bald  head  the  last  brilliant  bon 
mot  apropos  of  the  Beecher  trial,  and  when  every- 
body else  is  roomed  and  he  has  settled  the  pen 
right  behind  his  ear,  then  he  calls  the  smallest 
bell-boy  in  the  office  and  turns  to  me  with,  "  Show 
this  gentleman  up  to  993  !  "  And  by  this  time 
I  feel  so  humble  about  it  that  I  bow  to  the  bell- 
boy and  look  round  for  his  bag  and  wonder  how 
I'm  to  find  No.  993  to  show  him  to. 

I  narrate  now  no  particular  grievance  ;  con- 
sider this  the  statement  merely  of  a  great  general 
fact.  Nor  think  that  I  blame  the  hotel  clerk  of 
the  period.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  convinced 
that  the  fault  lies  with  my  tailor  ;  to  him  I  shall 
address  myself  for  the  correction  of  the  fault ', 
he  must  sling  more  style  into  my  clothes,  so  to 


14  My   Vacation. 

speak,  tighten  up  my  trousers'  legs  a  trifle,  roll 
the  collar  of  my  coat  down  lower,  and  add  a  foot 
or  two  to  its  skirt.  Otherwise  I  shail  have  to 
wear  a  placard  on  my  breast  stating  exactly  how 
much  these  clothes  do  cost,  for  if  you  suppose 
that  my  tailor  doesn't  charge  as  much  as  any 
other  one,  just  try  him  on  once  ! 

Comparatively  unfamiliar  with  Long  Branch, 
I  cannot  institute  a  fair  comparison  between 
this  season  and  former  ones,  and  the  statements 
of  hotel  proprietors  must  be  taken,  of  course, 
with  more  grains  of  salt  than  go  with  a  cucum- 
ber. But  all  agree  in  saying  that  the  season  is 
scarcely  up  to  the  average  ;  and  there  is  less 
dress  and  display,  there  are  fewer  fine  turnouts 
and  tandems,  and  such  glittering  generalities, 
than  one  would  look  for.  The  times  make 
themselves  felt  to  a  certain  extent,  of  course — 
with  contracted  incomes  a  contraction  of  expen- 
ditures becomes  necessary — and  again  the  Sar- 
atoga Regatta  has  probably  drawn  many  away 
from  the  seaside. 

The  west  end  is  npt  quite  "  flush,"  and  the 
Ocean  House  I  should  say  has  "  drawn  "  fewei 


My   Vacation.  1 5 

"  pairs  "  still  than  go  to  make  "  a  full."  Of 
these  two  houses — which  without  invidiousness 
to  the  others  may  be  called  the  leading  taverns 
of  the  Branch — the  West  End  seems  to  bear 
away  the  palm  of  solidity.  It  is  here  that  wealth 
and  respectability  most  do  congregate,  and  there 
is  a  corresponding  air  of  steady  solemnity  about 
the  corridors.  Guests  bow  gravely  to  each  oth- 
er, and  inquire  about  families  and  finance,  and 
the  Centennial,  fanning  themselves  the  while 
with  The  Atlantic,  or  a  Popular  Science  Monthly. 
The  Ocean  House,  on  the  other  hand,  is  "  more 
picturesquer,"  and  the  people  there  stir  round  to 
a  livelier  measure,  shaking  one  another  by  the 
flipper  in  a  frivolous  way,  and  cracking  jokes, 
and  asking  conundrums,  while  they  rattle  over 
the  leaves  of  Harper's  to  see  the  pictures. 

Where  wealth  and  respectability  congregate, 
and  27ie  Atlantic  is  read,  there  you  always  find 
me. 


LIFE  AT  LONG  BRANCH. 

BATHING    UNFASHIONABLE   AT   THE   WEST   END— 
WATER  AS  A  MOTOR — LOOKING  AT  THE  SEA  AND 

TALKING  OF  THE  UNATTAINABLE THE  BLUFF 

AN  EGYPTIAN  GAME. 

LONG  BRANCH,  July  12. 

HAT  is  there  half  so  sweet  in  life — if 
we  except  love's  young  dream  and  the 
first  scollop  of  the  season — 

As  the  girl  late  concealed 

By  flounces  and  pillows, 
When  she  rushes  revealed 

In  the  light  of  the  billows  ? 

Occasionally  it  occurs  to  me  that  I'd  like  to 
be  a  billow,  several  billows  in  fact.  But  I'd  be 
eclectic  in  my  treatment.  Some  of  the  bathers 
I'd  drown.  For,  standing  on  the  shore,  I  notice 
many  who  should  never  go  in  ;  an  equal  number 
who  should  never  be  allowed  to  come  out.  We 
of  the  West  End  don't  bathe  much.  It  isn't 


My  Vacation.  17 

"  quite  the  thing,"  you  know  !  Too  heavy 
swells  for  the  surf,  are  we,  you  see !  A  fellow 
can't  carry  his  eye-glasses  and  cane  into  the 
breakers,  and  without  them  we'd  be  lost.  The 
ladies  would  do  it  more  if  Worth — or  the  other 
man,  Moschowitz — made  bathing-dresses.  But 
they  won't.  They'll  make  a  woman  a  muslin 
megatherium  and  her  husband  a  bankrupt,  but 
they  won't  make  her  a  bathing-dress.  I  suppose 
this  is  because  of  the  impossibility  of  putting 
thirty  yards  of  grenadine  into  one. 

Well,  I  don't  blame  others  for  not  bathing. 
Individually,  I  had  rather  see  bathin'  than  sea 
bathe.  Being  in  the  undertow  has  no  charms 
for  your  correspondent ;  I'd  as  lief  be  under- 
handed as  undertoed.  A  common  bath-tub  an- 
swers very  well  for  me,  and  soap  does  the  work 
thoroughly  enough  without  the  aid  of  sand. 
There's  no  great  fun  in  getting  wet  all  over  un- 
less one  needs  washing.  If  I  made  a  practice 
of  sea-bathing  I  think  I'd  have  an  India-rubber 
suit  made  and  take  an  umbrella  in  with  me.  Wa- 
'  ter,  as  the  old  Frenchman  remarked,  has  so  tast- 
of  sinners  since  the  flood ! 


i8  My  Vacation. 

Apropos  of  water,  I  do  not  believe  in  it  as  a 
motor,  though  some  that  I  have  drank — Hathorn 
for  instance — is  powerful  enough  to  suit  the 
most  fastidious  fancy.  I  once  moved  Appleton's 
dog,  when  he  sat  howling  under  my  window  at 
Riverdale  at  night,  nigh  upon  a  mile  with  a  com- 
paratively small  dipperful  of  plain  hot  water  ; 
and  I  think  that  dog  is  going  yet ;  but  that  a  lo- 
comotive can  be  run,  frorn  here  to  Philadelphia, 
say,  by  no  other  moving  power,  I  will  not  believe 
till  I  see  it  done — and  then  I'll  say  it's  spiritual- 
ism. 

Better  than  bathing  I  like  to  sit  on  the 
beach  and  look  out  upon  the  sea  and  talk  of  the 
Unattainable — the  Unattainable  with  a  big  U. 

There  is  that  about  the  sea  which  vexes  while 
it  fascinates  me.  Gazing  out  from  the  shore,  far 
as  human  vision  can  reach,  you  can  only  see  far 
enough  after  all  to  know  that  there  is  something 
beyond,  and  of  that  beyo  :d  you  can  only  con- 
jecture unless  you  take  the  word  of  others  for  it. 
And  the  others,  sitting  on  the  beach  with  you 
and  looking  seaward,  can  see  no  farther  than 
you — unless  they  happen  to  have  a  pocket  tel- 


My  Vacation.  19 

escope  along,  and  even  that  won't  enable  them 
to  see  what  isn't  going  on  through  an  umbrella! 
If  the  sea  would  but  be  still  for  a  moment  or 
two — if  it  would  only  come  up  to  the  beach 
just  once,  and  fold  its  hands,  and  for  one  brief 
instant  hush  its  sad  monotone,  the  complaining 
of  a  dissatisfied  soul — 

If  it  would  but  "  let  the  old  cat  die"  once — 
as  we  used  to  say  at  school  when  we  took  turns 
at  swinging  under  a  tree — then  it  does  seem  to 
me  that  I  too  could  go  away  and  rest ! 

But  no  ;  last  thing  at  night  the  wail  of  the 
waves  is  in  my  ears,  and  when  I  wake  in  the 
morning  still  their  sad  sobbing  is  audible,  and 
I  know  that  all  night  long  they  have  been  toss- 
ing and  tumbling  like  one  in  pain,  knowing 
no  sleep,  finding  no  rest. 

Far  out  where  the  horizon — "  the  sapphire- 
spangled  marriage-ring  of  the  land" — stretches, 
all  seems  peaceful  enough  ;  from  there  you  hear 
no  sound,  and  there  you  see  no  motion,  and  you 
think  that  on  the  shore  Mrs.  Browning  must 
have  sat,  and  far  away  from  the  shore  she 
must  have  looked,  when  she  wrote : 


20  My  Vacation. 

"  And  I  smiled  to  think  God's  greatness 
Flowed  around  our  incompleteness, 
Round  our  restlessness  His  rest." 

But  alas,  you  know- — if  you  know  much  of 
anything  —  that  still  the  same  tumultuous 
throbbing  is  there,  that  only  the  dim  distance 
hides  it,  only  the  intervening  space  smothers 
it ;  that  the  heart  of  Ocean  is  never  still,  and 
that  its  wild  pulse-beats  are  felt  and  heard  on 
every  shore. 

Last  evening  we  sat  on  the  beach  and  piled 
up  mounds  of  sand — these  the  monuments,  we 
said,  of  a  pleasant  meeting.  And  this  morning 
I  went  and  looked  for  the  mounds  ;  lo,  they 
were  gone.  Are  we  not,  all  of  us,  all  life  through, 
mound-builders  of  this  sort,  more  or  less. 
What  is  there  we  can  build  up  which  shall  not 
perish  ?  Verily,  even  this  Great  Moral  Organ 
supplement  shall  not  last  for  ever.  If  the  flames 
get  not  hold  of  it,  some  young  woman  will  wear 
it  for  a  pannier,  and  so  shall  its  last  end  be 
worse  than  the  first.  As  regards  leaving  some- 
thing for  posterity  to  look  upon  I  don't  know 
that  it  matters  much  whether  I  write  in  the  morn- 


My  Vacation.  21 

ing  or  pile  up  sand  in  the  evening.  For  if  I 
look  in  The  Great  Moral  Organ  for  what  I 
have  written  next  morning,  it  is  not  there  ;  and 
if  I  look  on  the  beach  for  my  sand  cairn,  that  is 
not  there  either. 

Do  you  not  love  to  see  the  foam  come  in ! 
It  doesn't  seem  to  care  whether  school  keeps  or 
not ;  there's  a  joyousness  about  it  which  I  would 
like  to  make  mine.  Look,  it  has  its  little  fling, 
sparkles  in  the  sunlight  for  a  moment,  and  is 
gone.  None  care  that  it  is  gone  perhaps,  but 
what  cares  the  foam  ?  Were  choice  yours, 
would  you  not  say : 

"  I'd  rather  be  the  glad,  bright,  leaping  foam 
Than  the  smooth,  sluggish  sea.     O  let  me  live 
To  love,  and  flush,  and  thrill,  or  let  me  die  ?  " 

Really  the  temptation  to  go  on  with  this  sort 
of  thing  is  very  strong,  but  my  moral  force  is 
equal  to  the  occasion.  It  is  expected  that  one 
shall  do  a  little  fine  writing  when  he's  by  the 
sad  sea  waves,  but  it  is  possible  to  run  the  thing 
into  the  water — water  too  deep  for  utterance. 
Let  us  get  back  to  soundings. 

After  thinking  Mr.  Alexander  Smith's  simile 


22  My  Vacation. 

about  the  ocean  being  the  bridegrcfom  and  the 
beach  the  bride  all  over,  I've  concluded  that  it 
is  correct  in  the  main,  and  that  Mr.  Smith  did 
pretty  well,  taking  into  account  his  limited 
knowledge,  for  at  the  period  of  life  when  this 
simile  had  birth  the  bard  was  unmarried.  But 
it's  all  a  mistake  about  the  sea  rushing  up  to 
deck  the  tawny  brow  of  his  bride  with  shells — at 
least  that  is  not  the  order  of  the  day — or  night 
— at  Long  Branch.  If  you'll  trust  to  me  for  it, 
he  runs  up  and  hits  her  over  the  head  with  a 
chunk  of  cord-wood,  a  dead  dog,  or  some- 
thing else  equally  pleasant  and  fragrant.  Nor 
does  she  seem  to  expect  any  better  treatment  at 
his  hands,  nor  even  does  she  go  half  way  to  re- 
ceive that;  still  she  stands,  and  never  stirs  a 
peg  to  get  out  of  the  way,  good  patient  type  of 
woman  that  she  is — but  she  doesn't  step  eagerly 
froward  to  take  a  belting  for  all  that. 

It  is  a  source  of  much  regret  to  the  general 
public  that  ladies  refuse  to  be  persuaded  down 
to  the  beach  more  frequently.  But  the  widows 
say  the  salt  air  spoils  their  crape,  the  girls  don't 
want  the  crimp  taken  out  of  their  hair,  and  mar- 


My  Vacation.  23 

ried  women — well  I  suppose  it's  no  fun  to 
"  spoon"  round  with  their  own  husbands,  and 
they'd  not  go  with  any  one  else,  of  course. 

Wall  St.  empties  itself  into  the  Branch  every 
Saturday.  Oh  the  lame  ducks  that  you  see  here 
of  Sundays  !  May  I  call  them  limp-ets  ?  Or  do 
limpets  only  cling  to  rocks  ?  These  seem  at- 
tached to  sand. 

The  southern  part  of  Long  Branch  seems 
higher  than  the  northern.  In  front  of  the  West 
End  and  along  the  shore  we  have  a  bluff.  And 
financially  as  well  as  physically  speaking,  pro- 
perty is  much  higher  along  here  than  in  other 
localities.  You  -get  a  breeze  in  this  vicinity 
when  not  a  breath  seems  to  be  stirring  elsewhere. 
But  I  can  confidentially  assert,  as  the  result  of 
repeated  experiment,  that  it  is  possible  to  raise  a 
breeze  at  short  notice  most  anywhere,  not  excep- 
ting the  remotest  cottages,  by  calling  round  at 
inopportune  times.  The  young  man  of  most 
limited  capacity  can  do  this — indeed,  the  more 
limited  his  capacity  the  better  for  the  purpose. 

As  for  the  bluff  around  the  West  End,  I  am  in- 
formed there  is  another  game,  near  at  hand,  a 


24  My  Vacation. 

game  commonly  known  as  Pharo.  I  don't  know 
what  it  is  exactly,  but  suppose  it  has  something 
to  do  with  the  Egyptian  king  of  that  name  ;  in- 
deed, I  have  heard  young  men  on  the  piazza 
speak  of  "  copperin,  the  king" — all  Egyptian 
kings  are  copper-colored,  I  believe — and  of  deal, 
ings  with  queens,  &c.  The  name  of  Chamber- 
lain is  frequently  mentioned,  too — this  I  suppose 
means  a  man  who  was  chamberlain  to  some  high- 
toned  old  king.  When  I  once  more  get  back  to 
the  bosom  of  my  family  I  shall  turn  to  the  book 
of  Exodus  and  see  if  I  can  find  out  what  it  all 
means. 

In  a  previous  letter  I  mentioned  the  West  End 
and  the  Ocean — as  the  only  hotels  here.  There 
I  was  mistaken.  There  are  more  than  you  can 
shake  a  stick  at.  For  this  reason  I  have  neither 
attempted  to  shake  a  stick  at  nor  stick  a  stake 
into  any  one  of  them.  I  do  not  think  I  have 
even  referred  in  complimentary  terms  to  the 
house  that  sticks  a  steak  into  me.  Nor  is  there 
any  reason  that  I  should.  Mrs.  Paul  keeps  a 
better  house  than  any  I've  struck  yet  in  all  my 
wanderings,  and  it  has  never  at  any  time  occurred 


My  Vacation.  25 

to  me  that  I  ought  to  give  her  a  lift  in  a  paper 
for  it,  neither  has  she  ever  seemed  to  expect  one. 
As  for  hotels,  the  world  over,  they're  all  bad 
enough  as  contrasted  with  one's  own  house. 
There's  a  difference  in  them,  of  course — some 
are  worse  than  others.  Personally,  I  pre- 
fer the  Gilsey  to  any  other  hotel  in  the  world. 
This  preference  comes,  perhaps,  because  of  its 
charges  being  less  ;  a  man  can  go  there  and  live 
on  nothing.  If  you  don't  believe  me,  try  it  once. 
Many  men  have  gone  there  with  nothing  and 
come  away  with  much.  Instance  in  point :  last 
week  I  put  one  shirt  in  the  wash,  and  they  gave 
me  pieces  enough  to  make  three.  I've  not  had 
time  to  put  the  pieces  together  yet,  but  hope  to 
find  the  time  between  this  and  Sunday,  making 
a  shift  to  do  without  any  in  the  meanwhile. 

As  for  the  hotels  here  I  copied  the  names  of 
all  out  of  a  Long  Branch  Directory,  so  as  to  give 
them  a  fair  and  square  deal  all  round  in  the  way 
of  mention,  but  lost  the  memorandum.  As  for 
the  people,  I  made  a  list  of  names  for  publica- 
tion, but  luckily  found  out  that  those  I  had  down 
would  punch  my  head  if  I  put  them  in,  and  that 


26  My  Vacation. 

those  I  had  not  down  would  treat  me  similarly 
if  I  didn't ;  so  I  burned  up  the  memorandum- 
book,  and  this  letter  will  go  forth  to  the  world 
bearing  as  a  tag  one  great  name  alone — that  ot 
JOHN  PAUL. 


MORAL    REFLECTIONS     APROPOS    OF 
LONG  BRANCH. 

HOW  IT  IS  HOT — THE  GIRL  OF  THE  DISHEVELLED 
SORT — CRABS  AND  COTTAGES — POSSIBILITY 
OF  BEING  VIRTUOUS  AND  YET  HAVING  CAKES 
AND  ALE — SOCIAL  SURGEONS A  PLAN  FOR  MIX- 
ING SOCIETY. 

LONG  BRANCH,  July  13. 
EVER  until  I  saw  them  driving  around 
here  did  I  know  who  or  what  was  meant 
by  Hoey  Polloi  / 
Occasionally  we  have  a  hot  day  at  the  Branch 
and  this  is  a  '( blazer."  It  was  only  9  of  the  morn- 
ing when  I  took  my  accustomed  walk  abroad, 
the  many  poor  to  see,  but  even  then  the  sands 
were  so  hot  that  it  seemed  like  treading  over 
the  Tartarean  tiles.  What  there  is  of  breeze  is 
off  land,  but  on  the  ocean  there  is  scarce  a  rip- 
ple. Lazy  fishing  boats  are  bobbing  up  and 
down  like  buoys,  and  becalmed  smacks,  sloops, 


28  My  Vacation. 

schooners,  brigantines,  brigs,  barks,  and  full 
rigged  ships  lie  in  the  distance,  fanning  their 
superheated  masts  with  idly-flapping  sails.  The 
porpoises  out  yonder  are  sluggish  in  the  sea, 
and  stand  on  their  heads,  turning  slow  somer- 
saults, which  expose  only  the  tip  of  fin  and  tail 
to  the  sun,  instead  of  bounding  into  the  air  with 
the  wonderful  vigor  and  elasticity  observable  in 
this  fish  when  a  brisk  breeze  is  blowing  and  he 
has  business  to  do.  The  fish-hawk  perches  him- 
self on  his  high,  dry  limb,  and,  safe  for  the  mo- 
ment from  his  cruel  pursuit,  the  menhaden  is 
merry  and  the  porgy  has  peace.  Yesterday  that 
same  bird,  now  loafing  on  a  limb,  was  hawk- 
ing fish  through  the  air  and  screaming  his  wares 
vociferously.  To-day  you  see  he  buries  his 
talons  in  a  napkin  instead,  as'twere. 

The  girl  of  the  disheveled  sort,  got  up  in  that 
neglige  way  that  requires  more  fixing  than  any 
other  style  of  toilet,  with  blowing  hair,  her  clothes 
half  off,  and  one  shoe-string  and  a  stay-lace 
fluttering  loosely  in  the  wind,  who  promenades 
the  beach  with  a  Byron  in  her  hand  and  an 
impression  that  she  looks  like  Gulnare,  has 


My  Vacation.  29 

gone  into  the  house.  Not  a  planted  umbrella, 
with  two  young  persons  green  and  growing 
under  it,  is  to  be  seen  on  the  beach.  The 
piazzas  even  are  deserted.  Everybody,  who  has 
not  gone  to  the  races,  is  in  his  or  her  room 
ringing  for  ice  and  pitying  those  who  are  com- 
pelled to  stay  in  the  city. 

"I  pities  all  unfortunate  folks  ashore  now," 
sings  the  sailor  in  a  gale  of  wind  at  sea,  as  he 
felicitates  himself  and  his  shipmates  on  being 
where  single  bricks  and  whole  chimneys  cannot 
come  tumbling  about  their  ears. 

There's  a  fitness  about  most  things  if  one  only 
sees  them  aright.  Now  these  cottages  of  the  sea- 
side, with  their  projecting  points  and  angles  and 
variegated  colors,  have  to  me  very  much  the 
look  of  crabs.  They  seem  "  quite  at  home  "  on 
the  sand,  seeking  no  shade  and  asking  no  shade 
— at  least  such  shade  as  you  would  give  them — 
and  ready  to  slide  off  sideways  or  pirouette  up- 
on one  leg  and  an  ear  gracefully  backwards  on 
very  slight  provocation. 

The  analogies  of  life  are  always  amusing  to 
me.  Some  persons  remind  me  of  crabs,  smooth 


30  My  Vacation. 

on  one  side,  prickly  on  another,  and  you  can  • 
never  tell  which  side  you're  going  to  find  upper- 
most. Lay  him  down  and  you  can't  tell  which 
way  he  means  to  travel ;  pick  him  up  you  can't 
tell  which  way  he  is  going  to  squirm,  or  exactly 
where  he's  going  to  claw  you  with  those  con- 
founded hooks  and  crooks  in  his  awkward  gyra- 
tions. His  friendliest  salutation  is  a  pinch  in- 
stead of  a  hand-shake,  and  the  only  way  to  carry 
him  comfortably  in  your  bosom  is  to  eat  him. 
'Tis  a  case  of  entire  swallowing  on  one  side  or 
the  other — either  you  must  swallow  the  crab  with 
all  his  gable-ends  and  outstanding  cornices,  or 
let  him  "  gobble  you  up,"  hook  and  line,  bob 
and  sinker  ;  else  it  is  an  eternal  struggle  between 
you  and  the  crab,  a  threshing  round  on  the 
beach  of  life,  and  comfort  for  neither. 

We  are  all  of  us  shellfish  more  or  less,  per- 
haps. I  am  a  crab,  thou  art  a  crab,  he,  she,  or 
it  is  a  crab  ;  we  are  crabs,  you  are  crabs,  they 
are  crabs.  Deny  it  if  you  can-cer  ! 

The  hermit  or  soldier  crab  is  to  me  an  in- 
teresting object  of  contemplation.  The  fish 
hawk  has  his  place  of  rest,  the  wild  clam  where 


My  Vacation.  31 

to  dwell,  but  the  spirit  that  gave  the  bird  its 
nest,  did  n't  give  this  fellow  a  shell.  So  he  has 
to  forage  for  it,  and  he  generally  takes  the  larg- 
est one  he  can  find.  Were  he  a  human  creature 
you'd  find  him  patronizing  the  "misfit  stores  " 
— stores  to  which  clothes  that  do  not  fit  those 
they  are  made  for  are  sold  by  first-class  tailors, 
and  disposed  of  at  reduced  prices  to  a  not  very 
particular  second-class  sort  of  customers. 

When  I  see  this  unfortunate  crab  running 
round  with  that  big  shell  on  his  back,  I  think  of 
the  many  men  I  know  who  have  moved  into 
houses  too  large  for  their  means  and  are  now 
staggering  under  them  and  a  mortgage. 

Notwithstanding  the  warmth  of  the  day  it  is 
pleasanter  in  reality  than  the  murky,  muggy 
weather  which  has  been  the  rule  heretofore 
since  my  arrival.  Now  the  air  is  clear  and  dry  ; 
then  it  fitted  you  closely,  hung  upon  you  and 
about  you  like  hot,  steaming  flannel,  so  desti- 
tute of  electricity  that  not  a  spark  went  out  into 
your  conversation,  let  you  agitate  and  rub  the 
crystal  cylinder  of  your  brain  never  so  violently  ; 
homo  nodded,  women  drowsed.  Oh,  the  misera- 


32  My  Vacation. 

61e  feeling,  the  gloom,  the  depression  that  come 
over  one  at  such  times  !  When  the  little  boy, 
leading  a  man  who  looks  as  though  in  some 
convulsion  of  the  laundry  a  washtub  had  sneezed 
indigo  all  over  his  face,  approaches  you,  asking 
pitifully,  "  Something  for  the  Blue  man,  Sir," 
you  feel  like  telling  him  and  the  blew  man  to  go 
away  and  be  blowed,  for  you're  a  blue  man  your- 
self to-day,  deeply,  darkly,  beautifully  blue,  but 
you  don't ;  on  the  contrary  you  give  a  green- 
back to  his  blue  face  and  send  him  on  his  way 
rejoicing.  For  you  may  be  blown  up  yourself, 
some  day,  and  how  would  that  soot  you  ? 

The  only  man  of  color  I  object  to  is  a 
Dun! 

Let  me  frankly  confess,  however,  that  I  do 
not  like  to  have  a  social  surgeon  for  a  compan- 
ion. I  know  that  under  that  fair  girl's  skin  lie 
raw,  red  flesh,  unsightly  veins  and  arteries,  and 
ghastly  hued  muscles — other  things,  unpleasant 
to  contemplate  perhaps — but  for  all  that  I  don't 
want  her  peeled  for  me.  Dum  vtvimus  /  Be 
dumb  while  you  are  living  with  us,  and  while  we 
are  living  with  them.  Let  us  enjoy  that  which  is 


My  Vacation.  33 

enjoyable  in  her,  her  grace,  freshness,  and  en- 
thusiasm ;  let  us  regale  ourselves  on  that  which 
is  good,  and  let  the  rest  go  if  there  be  any  which 
is  not  good,  and  undoubtedly  there  is  if  one  dives 
beneath  the  surface.  But  why  go  beneath  the 
surface  ?  You  meet  but  at  the  surf,  and  don't  intend 
to  marry.  It  is  not  necessary  to  peel  these  belles 
in  my  ears  week  days  and  Sundays  as  though  you 
were  a  sexton  and  I  a  ghoul,  fond  of  funerals.  At 
the  present  writing  I'm  not  looking  round  for 
anybody  to  eat.  This  man  may  be  a  gambler ;  that 
one  a  horse  thief.  But  I  have  no  money  to  lose,  no 
horse  to  be  stolen.  The  one  can  tell  me  something 
I  want  to  know ;  the  other  can  explain  something 
I'm  curious  about.  You  can't,  my  respectable 
friend,  for  I  have  long  had  access  to  your  circle, 
and  know  pretty  much  all  that  you  do — and  the 
bulk  of  it  isn't  worth  knowing.  Arabella  is  very 
charming,  but  Anonym  a  can  tell  me  more  in  ten 
minutes  than  Arabella  could  in  a  life-time,  and 
that  either  would  damage  me  very  seriously  is 
not  clear  to  the  unassisted  vision.  I'm  the  father 
of  a  family,  and  not  a  sardine.  What  are  you, 
neighbor  codfish  ? 

3 


34  My  Vacation. 

Is  it  not  possible  to  be  virtuous  and  yet  have 
both  cakes  and  ale  ?  It  is  also  possible  to  be 
virtuous  and  have  only  mush  and  milk,  but  all 
don't  like  that  for  a  steady  diet.  There  must 
be  a  point  somewhere  where  respectability  ends 
and  stupidity  begins — peace  on  earth  will  never  be 
mine  till  I  find  it.  For  that  stupidity  and  respec- 
tability, if  not  one  and  the  same  thing,  must  at 
least  go  hand  in  hand,  I  for  one  do  not  believe. 

Seems  to  me  there  is  something  wrong  about 
the  arrangement  of  things  at  present.  Take 
the  churches,  for  instance — the  very  people  get 
preached  to  who  stand  least  in  need  of  preach- 
ing ;  those  most  in  need  of  preaching  and  teach- 
ing don't  get  a  bit  of  it.  'Tis  just  as  though  the 
blessed  rain  should  fall  only  on  fat  corn-fields, 
where  a  goodly  congregation  of  ears  and  stalks 
is  gathered  together.  Fortunately  no  human 
hand  holds  the  rains,  and  both  they  and  the 
dew  fall  on  the  unjust  as  well  as  the  just  (which 
is  why  I  get  wet,  occasionally),  watering  waste 
places  and  invigorating  the  whole  earth. 

If  one  of  your  fine  preachers  would  set  up  a 
dummy  in  his  pulpit  some  Sunday  his  people  per- 


My  Vacation.  35 

haps  would  not  discover  the  difference,  and  he 
could  go  into  the  slums  and  tell  a  few  of  the 
slummers  things  they  have  never  heard, 
while  perhaps  they  in  return  might  be  able  to 
tell  him  a  good  deal  he  has  never  dreamed  of 
and  which  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  know. 

Weeds  and  grasses  grow  together  ;  each  has  its 
uses  I  suppose ;  good  can  be  got  out  of  both  if 
one  go  about  it  in  the  right  way.  That  tall 
Timothy  there  won't  hurt  you  more  than  a  chap- 
ter of  an  Epistle,  undoubtedly,  but  the  belladonna 
standing  in  close  juxtaposition  has  a  mission  and 
a  meaning  to  you  as  well — don't  make  a  full 
meal  of  it,  though.  Sometimes  I  think  that  if  the 
good  and  bad  in  this  world  would  mix  a  little 
more  neither  would  be  much  harmed  and  both 
might  be  the  better  for  it. 

Still,  coming  to  think  about  it,  I  don't  know 
that  I'd  care  to  see  my  wife  chasse'eing  round 
with  that  blackleg  yonder  on  the  beach,  or  sit- 
ting down  to  a  plate  of  ice-cream  with  the  anony- 
mousness  that  has  just  gone  flashing  by  in  a 
basket  phaeton.  Theories  are  well  enough  in 
their  way,  but  practice  knocks  them  higher  than 


36  My  Vacation. 

a  kite,  as  Russell  Sage  remarked  to  Isaac  Sher- 
man in  a  little  discussion  about  finance  last  eve- 
ning. And  I  never  could  touch  theology  or 
these  social  questions  with  a  ten-foot  pole  even 
without  making  a  mess  of  it,  and  you  won't 
again  for  a  good  while  catch  me  so  far  away  from 
my  base  as  I've  got  to-day.  So  make  the  most 
of  this  run. 

Strolling  out  doors  now,  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  I  find  it  cool  and  comfortable  enough  for 
anybody,  the  thermometer  marking  75°,  a  fresh 
south-east  wind  blowing  in  from  the  sea,  the  fish- 
hawks  flying  round,  porpoises  rolling,  Isabella 
sitting  on  the  beach  under  a  gingham  umbrella, 
and  everybody,  in  short,  doing  just  the  very 
things  I  said  they  were  not  doing  when  this  let- 
ter began,  and  which  they  were  not  doing  at  that 
time. 

All  of  which  only  proves  how  Ternpus  fugit — 
which  may  be  literally  translated,  perhaps,  into 

lament  that  few  get  a  good  time.  I  for  one  am 
going  to  start  out  right  now  and  see  if  I  can't 
get  one. 


FISH-HAWKS  AND  FINANCE  AT  LONG 
BRANCH. 

THE     FISH-HAWK     AND    THE     HACKMEN     OF     THE 

AIR THE   YOUNG   WOMAN   WHO    SITS    ON    THE 

SHORE — TWO      CAPITALISTS      ON     INFLATION 

LET      INTO       THE      SECRET       OF     HOTEL     MAN- 
AGEMENT  AT   THE    BRANCH. 

LONG  BRANCH,  July  14. 

He  roosts  him  not  upon  the  sands, 
But  up  above  their  grasping  hands — 
Your  Jerseyman  he  understands. 

The  soldier-crab  beneath  him  sprawls 
But  not  on  him  my  wise  bird  falls — 
For  breakfast  he  prefers  fish-balls. 

IHA'TS  the  Fish-hawk. 
He's  a  born  Brancher.  Perched  on  'a 
high  and  dry  limb  you  see  him,  the 
while  the  cars  whirl  you  over  the  wild  sands 
at  the  reckless  speed  of  seven  miles  or  so 
an  hour.  Is  he  not  a  male  and  a  brooder  ?  That 
nest  of  his,  by  the  way,  is  a  wonderful  creation. 


38  My  Vacation: 

It  was  built  by  day's  work,  not  by  contract,  and 
long  before  the  war.  Material  was  lower  then 
than  it  is  now — the  driftwood  and  cordage, 
which  go  to  make  it  up,  were  never  before  so 
high.  'Tis  a  raft  up  a  tree,  but  rafters  it  has 
not.  Neither  has  it  many  rooms,  and  here  you 
see  a  wise  provision  of  Providence.  The  head 
of  this  family  is  never  tempted  to  go  spooking 
round  from  one  apartment  to  another,  looking 
for  a  soft  spot  whereon  he  may  lay  his  head. 
Neither,  in  such  event,  could  the  female  bird  be 
persuaded  to  follow  him  solicitously  with  a  pil- 
low ;  the  readiest  thing  to  hand  is  a  sharp  stick, 
and  with  that  she'd  be  after  him  if  with  anything. 
Another  good  thing  about  the  Hawk  House  is 
that  there  are  no  stairs  to  go  up ;  on  a  similar 
plan  of  architecture  I  intend  to  construct  my 
cottage.  It  shall  all  be  down  stairs,  with  vesti- 
bule and  hall  door  on  the  roof ;  no  cellar-kitchen, 
no  dumb  waiter,  for  me.  I  don't  see  how  a  dumb 
waiter  can  answer  ;  if  in  the  wide,  wide  world 
there  be  one  that  does,  I'd  like  to  hear  from  it. 

The  fish-hawk   is   not   an    eagle.     Mountain 
heights  and  clouds  he  never  scales  ;  fish  are  more 


My  Vacation.  39 

in  his  way,  he  scales  them — possibly  regarding 
them  as  scaly-wags.  For  my  bird  is  pious  ;  a 
stern  conservator  is  he  of  the  public  morals. 
Last  Sunday  a  frivolous  fish  was  playing  not  far 
from  the  beach  and  Dr.  Hawk  went  out  and 
stopped  him.  "Pis  fun  to  watch  him  at  that  sort 
of  work — stopping  play — though  somehow  it 
doesn't  seem  to  amuse  the  fish  much.  Up  in 
the  air  he  poises  pensively,  hanging  on  hushed 
wings  as  though  listening  for  sounds — may  be  a 
fish's.  By  and  by  he  hears  a  herring — is  he  hard 
of  herring,  think  you  ?  Then  down  he  drops 
and  soon  has  a  Herring  Safe.  (Send  me  some- 
thing, manufacturers,  immediately.)  Does  he  tear 
his  prey  limb  from  limb  ?  No,  he  merely  sails 
away  through  the  blue  ether — how  happy  can  he 
be  with  ether  ! — till  the  limb  whereon  his  own 
nest  is  built  is  reached.  Does  the  herring  en- 
joy that  sort  of  riding,  think  you  ?  Quite  as 
much,  I  should  say,  as  one  does  hack-driving. 
From  my  point  of  view  the  hawk  is  but  the 
hackman  of  the  air.  Sympathize  with  the  fish  ? 
Not  much.  Nor  would  you  if  you  heard  the  pit- 
iful cry  the  hawk  sets  up  the  moment  he  finds 


40  My  Vacation. 

that  his  claws  are  tangled  in  a  fish's  back.  Home 
he  flies  to  seek  domestic  consolation,  uttering 
the  while  the  weeping  cry  of  a  grieved  child  ; 
there  are  tears  in  his  voice,  so  you  know  the  fish 
must  be  hurting  him.  The  idea  that  a  hawk  can't 
fly  over  the  water  of  an  afternoon  without  some 
malicious  fish  jumping  up  and  trying  to  bite  him. 
If  a  fish  wants  to  cross  the  water  safely,  let 
him  take  a  Fulton  ferryboat  for  it.  There  he 
will  find  a  sign  reading  : 

"NO  PEDDLING  OR  HAWKING 

allowed  in  this  cabin." 

Strange  that  hawking  should  be  so  sternly 
prohibited  on  boats  which  are  mainly  patronized 
by  Brooklynites  chronically  afflicted  with  catarrh  ? 

Why  did  they  not  have  the  regatta  at  Pleasure 
Bay  (a  sort  of  tender  to  the  Branch)  not  far  from 
here,  instead  of  at  Saratoga  ?  'Tis  the  famous- 
est  place  for  catching  crabs  in  the  universe,  and 
that's  about  all  the  young  oarsmen  seem  to  do 
when  they  "  regat."  The  row,  too,  that  is  made 
over  the  catching !  Was  the  apple  of  discord  a 
crab  apple,  I  wonder  ? 


My  Vacation.  41 

Besides  Pleasure  Bay  there  are  numbers  of 
other  pleasant  places  within  easy  driving,  almost 
within  comfortable  walking  distance  of  the 
Branch. — Red  Bank,  for  instance.  Indeed 

I  know  a  Red  Bank  where  the  wild  thyme  grows, 
and  thither  a  young  lady  and  myself  walked  yes- 
terday morning,  not  for  the  purpose  of  having  a 
wild  time,  at  all,  but  merely  for  the  walk.  But  the 
bank  where  the  wildest  time  can  be  had  is  a 
faro-bank  I  fancy.  When  I  hazard  this  hypothe- 
sis, however,  do  not  think  that  I  belong  to  the 
Fancy. 

At  the  Branch  it  is  held  that  to  walk  is  human, 
to  drive  about  divine.  If  disposed  for  a  drive  all 
you  have  to  do  is  to  call  a  hackman,  and  tell  him 
exactly  how  much  money  you  have — all  the  rest 
is  easy.  After  passing  over  your  pocket-book, 
unhooking  your  gold  watch  and  chain,  and  giv- 
ing a  bond  and  mortgage  on  your  property  at 
Metuchin,  N.  J.,  the  rest  of  it  is  plain  sailing  ; 
you  can  go  without  further  let  or  hinderance  to 
Eatonville,  Branchport,  Rumson  Neck — which  is 
necks  to  t'other  place — Tinton  Falls,  or  Deal. 
Or,  you  can  find  a  deal  nearer  to  the  West  End 


42  My  Vacation. 

— whether  or  not  it  is  a  square  deal,  I  can't  tell 
you.  Thirst  you  for  the  tiger  ?  There  is  the  jungle. 
The  leopard  may  not  change  his  spots,  but  that 
your  ten-spots  will  change  hands,  if  you  tempt  the 
layer-out  of  his  lair,is  more  than  likely.  If  you  lose, 
go  for  sympathy  to  the  same  man  with  whom  you 
would  have  divided  the  "  pot,"  had  you  chanced 
to  win.  But  I  scarce  think  the  first  letters  of  that 
man's  name  would  spell  out  any  human  initials. 

Oh,  a  golden  comb  for  golden  hair, 
And  milk  white  pearls  for  a  neck  as  fair, 
And  silver  chains  and  all  for  me, 
The  day  my  ship  comes  home  from  sea. 

So  sang  the  maiden,  sitting  on  the  shore,  and 
watching  the  coming  and  going  of  the  tide,  the 
sea-foam  as  it  blew  like  fluffs  of  wool,  across  the 
beach.  At  her  feet  where  they  had  been  strewn 
by  the  lavish  sea,  lay  shells  and  shining  pebbles. 
Weird  wrinkles  on  the  beach  showed  where  each 
successive  wave,  ambitiously  climbing  to  reach 
higher  than  his  fellow,  had  spent  itself.  Here 
you  saw  the  splintered  end  of  a  spar  protruding — 
part  of  a  mast,  perhaps,  that  had  danced  some 
brave  flag  high  aloft,  now  lying  prone  and  all  but 


My  Vacation.  43 

buried  in  the  sand.  There  lay  a  piece  of  oak- 
en bulwark,  a  fragment  to  which  a  mother  with 
a  babe  may  have  clung,  torn  from  some  stout 
ship's  sides.  But  a  few  feet  out  from  the  shore 
the  gaunt  ribs  of  a  wreck  loomed  dark  in  the 
moonlight  —  bobbing  up  and  down  in  the 
water  they  suggest  ghostly  bathers.  Yet  still  the 
maiden  sat  and  sang  of  her  ship  to  arrive,  and 
with  the  light  fingers  of  fancy  strung  her  neck 
and  filleted  her  forehead  with  the  pearls  and  gold 
with  which  fond  hope  promised  her  that  it  came 
freighted.  Alas,  poor  girl,  she  knew  not  that 
even  then  her  ship  had  sunk  at  sea,  that  down, 
down,  many  score  fathoms  down,  its  white  sails 
were  mildewing,  and  that  already  the  naermaid- 
ens  were  making  sport  of  her  treasures  !  She 
read  not  the  omens  which  lay  round  her  aright — 
better,  perhaps,  that  she  should  not ;  for  she  may 
forget  the  ship  at  sea,  never  remember  that  it 
has  been  long,  long  overdue,  till  fancy  has 
freighted  another  for  her.  Alas,  are  there  no 
underwriters  for  human  hopes  ? — for  the  most 
precious  of  interests  is  there  no  insurance  ? 
Better  by  far,  though,  that  a  ship  should  sink 


44  My  Vacation. 

far  out  at  sea  than  go  down  alongside  the  wharf 
when  harbor  has  been  safely  reached,  erecting  its 
gaunt  and  stained  timbers  in  your  sight,  a  per- 
petual remembrance  of  the  dead. 

A  plague  upon  this  poetry  ;  it  will  be  the  death 
of  me  yet !  But  what  shall  one  do  when  the  fit 
is  on  him  and  the  stars  and  the  sea  swing  in 
rhythm  together !  "  Bring  me  a  harp-shell,  quick 
that  I  may  strike  it,"  I  shouted.  Alas,  but  a  bell 
boy  and  not  a  muse — not  even  a  sea-mew — re- 
sponded. 

"  For  practice  knocks  theory  higher  than  a 
kite."  That  is  what  Mr.  Sage  remarked  to  Mr. 
Sherman  last  evening. 

The  conversation  was  on  Finance,  a  subject 
with  which  I  am  popularly  supposed  to  be  familiar  ; 
so  there  was  no  impropriety  after  all  in  carrying 
it  on  in  my  presence.  Mr.  Sherman  is  a  "  bear," 
he  sees  no  prospect  of  a  bettering  of  business  in 
the  immediate  future  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  his 
opinion  that  things  will  go  from  bad  to  worse, 
that  we  stand  on  the  threshold  of  hard  times, 
that  soon  the  door  will  swing  wide  open  and  that 
then  we  shall  see — that  which  we  shall  see. 


My  Vacation.  45 

Mr.  Sage,  on  the  other  hand,  considers  the 
present  business  depression  as  only  temporary, 
brought  about  mainly  by  over-production  in  con- 
nection with  a  lessened  demand,  an  unfortunate 
state  of  things  in  which  our  country  by  no  means 
stands  alone,  but  a  state  of  things  which  will  right 
itself  naturally,  and  without  any  great  shock  or 
convulsion — at  least  at  present.  Both  men  are 
redemptionists,  holding  very  similar  views  as  re- 
gards the  inexpediency  of  inflation,  but  differing 
as  to  the  business  outlook  of  the  moment.  Mr. 
Sherman's  idea  is  that  specie  payments  are  less 
distant  than  is  generally  supposed ;  that  the  public, 
tired  of  currency,  will  not  base  transactions  on  it ; 
hence  the  general  stagnation,  a  refusal  to  make 
any  ventures.  Insensibly  the  public,  he  says,  is 
already  adjusting  things  on  a  specie  basis.  If 
a  man  go  to  a  capitalist  to  borrow  money  on  a 
piece  of  property,  he  has  not  the  assurance  to  ask 
for  much  more  than  half  as  much  as  he  would 
have  demanded  two  years  ago,  nor  could  he  bor- 
row it  if  he  did.  The  impressions  of  both  bor- 
rower and  lender  have  undergone  a  change  as 
regards  values.  The  question  of  specie  pay- 


46  My  Vacation. 

ments  has  in  great  measure  gone  out  of  the  hands 
of  conventions  and  the  people  ;  rapidly  as  pos- 
sible it  is  resolving  itself,  and  with  little  outside 
help.  A  similar  struggle  is  going  on  in  other 
countries,  and  a  similar  solution  may  be  reached 
simultaneously.  At  present  gold  and  silver  are 
demonetized  in  France,  Italy,  and  Austria  as 
well  as  in  the  United  States,  being  a  commodity 
merely,  and  not  money.  In  consequence,  specie 
has  flowed  out  from  these  non-specie-paying  coun- 
tries to  those  where  there  is  a  use  for  it.  The  in- 
stant these  countries  resume  specie  payments, 
back  to  them  it  flows  again  :  here  you  have  an 
immense  contraction  in  fact,  and  immediately  the 
shoe  begins  to  pinch.  About  this  time  look  out 
for  breakers — to  say  nothing  of  brokers  and 
bankers. 

It  is  rery  possible  that  I  have  got  Mr.  Sherman's 
ideas  a  little  mixed  with  my  own,  for  to  tell  the 
truth  it  does  puzzle  me  dreadfully  at  times  to  de- 
cide just  where  my  own  ideas  end  and  other 
people's  begin.  If  so,  I  ask  his  pardon  for  the  mis- 
representation ;  certainly  there  was  only  sound 
sense  in  his  talk,  however  I  may  have  translated 


My  Vacation.  47 

it.  This  is  certain,  however :  he  looks  for  no 
let  up  in  the  present  business  depression,  hold- 
ing rather  to  the  view  that  in  comparison  with 
what  is  to  come  we  may  eventually  look  back 
and  consider  these  as  very  tolerable  times  indeed. 

Mr.  Sage  says  theories  are  all  well  enough, 
but  the  best  frequently  fail  in  practical  applica- 
tion. That  navigation  never  comes  to  a  perfect 
standstill  because  apprehension  may  be  enter- 
tained of  a  squall,  and  that  people  are  not 
going  to  stay  in  doors  all  day  because  it  looks 
like  rain.  He  says  that  Mr.  Sherman  has  been 
talking  this  way  for  ten  years  now,  but  that  he  for 
his  part  instead  of  standing  round  with  an  umbrel- 
la permanently  hoisted  with  both  hands  above  his 
head,  has  moved  around  and  done  business 
and  made  some  money.  That  he  thinks  there  is 
still  room  to  make  a  few  profitable  turns  before 
the  world  comes  to  an  end,  and  that  a  business 
man  always  has  to  take  certain  chances.  All  of 
which  seems  to  me  so  sensible  that  I'd  be  willing 
in  the  future  to  trust  him  with  twenty  pieces  of 
gold  without  counting  it. 

Mr.   Sherman's  talk  seemed  sensible  to  me, 


48  My  Vacation. 

too — the  most  sensible  of  any  I  have  heard  for 
some  time.  And  he  talks  with  knowledge, 
understand,  with  facts  and  figures  at  his  fingers' 
ends,  and  can  give  you  a  reason  for  everything 
he  says.  What  is  one  to  do  when  two  such  men 
differ  about  the  future  ?  Really  I  don't  know, 
unless  you  follow  the  guiding  rule  of  my  life,  and 
of  two  sensible  men  choose  the  less. 

But  now  let  me  get  my  own  oar  in  just  once. 
It  seems  to  me  that  a  deal  of  liquidation  has 
been  going  on  which  is  not  felt  as  yet.  The  liquid 
is  getting  pretty  low  in  some  reservoirs,  in  fact, 
and  let  people  but  discover  just  how  low  it  is, 
and  there  may  be  music  of  a  most  unpleasant 
character  in  the  air.  To  illustrate  what  I  mean  : 
Here  at  Long  Branch  is  a  cottage  which  with  its 
grounds  cost  $47,000.  Last  Summer  a  resident 
of  the  place — nowise  interested  in  the  property — 
urged  a  capitalist  with  whom  I  am  acquainted, 
to  buy  it  as  an  investment  for  $45,000 — at  which 
price  it  was  offered.  This  Summer  the  property 
was  bought  in  by  the  mortgagee — a  life  insurance 
company — under  a  foreclosure  for  $27,000.  And 
they  have  approached  my  friend  several  times  to 


My  Vacation.  49 

urge  him  to  take  the  property  off  their  hands  at 
that  price — the  bare  amount  of  the  mortgage. 
But  he  does  not  see  it,  exactly. 

Let  our  life  insurance  company  be  compelled 
themselves  to  sell  that  property — as  the  chances 
are  that  they  will  be  before  they're  done  with  it — 
and  what  would  it  bring?  Probably  not  the 
half  of  what  they  have  been  obliged  to  purchase 
it  at.  Now,  here  is  but  one  individual  instance. 
If  you  doubt  that  the  bulk  of  savings  bank  money, 
and  other  money  which  may  be  suddenly  wanted 
some  day,is  loaned  out  on  just  such  fancy  property, 
appraised  originally  at  just  such  fancy  valuations, 
just  you  go  and  make  a  few  inquiries  in  a  quiet 
way.  And  then  come  back,  and  tell  me  if  a 
good  many  saving  people  should  some  day  take 
it  into  their  heads  that  they'd  like  to  feel  of  their 
own  money,  and  ask  for  it,  what  would  be  the 
result  ?  Where  would  fancy  property  go  to  ? 
And  where  would  the  few  who  had  a  fancy  for 
buying  a  piece  of  fancy  property,  at  what  seemed 
low  figures,  get  the  money  from  to  buy  it  with, 
notwithstanding  that  their  bank-books  showed  a 
balance  ? 

4 


50  My  Vacation. 

There  is  nothing  like  having  a  financial  head 
on  two  shoulders,  unless  one  has  two  financial 
heads  on  one  shoulder  ! 

I  do  not  know  what  there  is  in  my  face  which 
marks  me  out  for  a  statistician,  fond  of  figures, 
given  to  estimates,  thirsty  for  all  sorts  of  know- 
ledge. But  at  very  few  hotels  in  the  land  have 
I  ever  stayed  where  the  landlord  has  not  volun- 
teered to  show  me  around,  up  and  down  the 
kitchen,  through  the  laundry,  into  the  meat  safe, 
to  make  me  familiar  with  all  the  penetralia  of 
the  establishment,  in  fact,  but  the  money-drawer. 
It  must  be  that  I  somehow  look  like  a  man  who 
is  fond  of  crawling  through  cellars  and  climbing 
over  soap  boxes,  and  stretching  out  his  limbs  in 
the  shady  recesses  of  a  refrigerator.  The  gentle- 
manly proprietor  of  the  West  End  is  the  last  one 
who  has  taken  me  in  hand.  For  some  clays  I 
had  noticed  him  studying  my  face  curiously. 
At  last  he  moved  bodily  upon  the  works  this 
morning,  and  seized  me  by  the  hand.  "All 
right,  Sir  ;  the  desire  of  your  heart  shall  be  grati- 
fied." I  had  a  very  sharp-cut  presentiment  of 
what  was  coming,  but  followed  on  in  silence.  In 


My  Vacation.  51 

five  minutes  I  was  in  the  fish  house,  in  six  I  was 
in  the  scullery,  in  seven  I  was  in  the  soap-room, 
in  eight  I  was  in — but  why  enumerate  further  ? 
I  was  shown  everything  before  we  had  done  with 
it,  but  the  bar-room.  Likewise  I  was  made 
acquainted  with  an  admirable  system  of  accounts, 
a  system  by  which  a  check  is  kept  on  every  one 
about  the  house  but  the  head  chambermaid — no 
system  for  checking  a  chambermaid  has  ever 
yet  been  devised.  Thus,  a  piece  of  beef  coming 
in  is  charged  to  the  proprietor,  he  charges  it  to 
the  steward,  the  steward  charges  it  to  the  cook,  the 
cook  charges  it  to  the  pantry-man,  the  pantry- 
man charges  it  to  somebody  else,  and  then  a 
guest  steps  forward  and  pays  for  it. 

I  have  gathered  items  of  information  about 
the  quantities  of  things  consumed  in  Long  Branch 
hotels,  which  will  be  of  enormous  use  to  me  in 
after  life  ;  items  which  will  make  me  in  the  fu- 
ture a  wiser  and  a  wetter  man.  For  instance, 
at  the  West  End  there  are  21,000  toothpicks  and 
one  bottle  of  anchovy  sauce  used  up  in  a  week. 
A  bar  of  soap  doesn't  last  much  more  than  a 
day.  The  average  daily  cost  of  feeding  a  guest, 


52  My  Vacation. 

taking  one  day  with  another,  is  ten  cents  a  head. 
And  so  it  goes  on ;  all  expenditure,  little  or  no- 
thing coming  in.  Enough  to  discourage  any 
man  from  keeping  a  hotel,  unless  he  have  either 
Mr.  Hildreth's  good  nature,  Mr.  Presbury's  re 
spectable  appearance,  Mr.  Leland's  bank  ac- 
count, or  the  patience  of  JOHN  PAUL. 


UP  THE  HUDSON  TO  SARATOGA. 

THE    NOSE    OF     MY    YOUTH ASSIGNED     TO    A 

BRIDAL  CHAMBER — THE  POETRY  OF  IT — A  DROP 
INTO  'THEOLOGY — SARATOGA  WITH  A  FRONT 
TOOTH  OUT — A  BIG  BAR A  MISUNDERSTAND- 
ING ABOUT  CLOTHES. 

SARATOGA,  July  17. 

|  T  is  fifteen  years  and  more  since  I  have 
sailed  up  the  Hudson. 
Nousrevenonstoujoursanos  premiers  amours, 
says  a  proverb,  and  the  proverb  has  truth  to 
back  it.  Bald-headed,  do  we  not  return  to  the 
beauty  that  enslaved  us  when  young  ?  Is  not 
mother  earth  a  boy's  first  love  ?  To  her  skirts 
did  we  not  fondly  cling  when  we  planned  out 
the  business  of  the  day ;  in  her  dimples  did  we 
not  burrow  when  we  made  mud-pies  ?  To  her 
bosom  do  we  not  return  when  we  die  ? 

Years  ago  I  became  enamored  of  Anthony's 
Nose.     Last   night  I  embraced   it   again.     No 


54  My  Vacation. 

change  was  there.  "Pis  the  only  nose  I  know 
of,  the  azure  one  of  Ocean  alone  excepted,  on 
which  Time  writes  no  wrinkles.  All  other 
noses  round  me  are  redder  now  than  they  once 
were  ;  not  so  Anthony's.  Nor  has  it  increased 
in  size.  Wonder  you  that  when  one  meets  the 
nose  of  his  youth — the  only  illusion  that  has 
not  faded,  the  single  and  singular  friend  that 
has  not  gone  back  on  him — he  feels  like  having 
a  blow-out  ? 

Bring  hither  foaming,  sparkling,  brimming 
goblets  of  Congress  water.  Yea,  of  Hathorn, 
High  Rock,  Columbian,  Empire,  Geyser,  Star, 
Excelsior,  Saratoga  "  A,"  Eureka,  Hamilton, 
White  Sulpher  even,  and  let  us  pour  out  deep 
libations  while  we  grasp  old  Anthony's  Nose  by 
the  hand  and  dance  round  the  grand  base  which 
has  never  once  been  changed  in  a  century ! 

Alone  with  moonlight  and  a  memoiy,  the 
same  stars  shining  over  us  that  shone  15  years 
ago — aye,  the  same  stars  that  led  the  Children 
of  Israel  over  the  plains  and  in  their  courses 
fought  against  Sisera — a  perpetual  fountain  play- 
ing at  the  bow  where  the  swift  keel  divides  the 


My  Vacation.  55 

waters  and  clashes  them  up  in  spray,  the  waves 
voiceless,  the  decks  silent,  and  a  hush  in  the  air 
— is  this  not  pleasant?  Little  white  villages 
spring  suddenly  into  sight  on  the  river  banks  ; 
now  and  again  you  come  upon  a  cemetery,  its 
pale  marbles  glistening  in  the  silver  moonlight ; 
anon  some  iron  furnace,  its  lurid  fires  lighting 
"  the  darkness  of  the  scenery,"  bursts  upon  your 
startled  vision,  and  the  boat  shudders  away  down 
in  the  depths  of  her  timbers  as  she  leaps  by  the 
baleful  spectre. 

Who  could  leave  such  witchery  as  this  for 
even  a  bridal-chamber.  And  on  this  beautiful 
night  that  chamber  was  mine.  "  Boffin's  Bow- 
er," indeed  !  Boffin's  Bower  was  a  fool  to  that 
which  the  kind  fates  upon  this  blissful  night 
allotted  to  me.  A  ceiling  fretted  with 

roses, 

The  old  agitation 
Of  myrtles  and  roses, 

Cupids,  with  bows  and  arrows  and  festoons  and 
garlands,  and  not  much  else  in  the  way  of  dry 
goods  to  bother  them,  and  doves  with  bills  so 


56  My  Vacation. 

intermingled  that  they  seemed  but  one,  looked 
down  upon  me  from  that  canopy  of  blue.  Do 
you  marvel,  good  friend,  that  at  all  these  frescoes 
I  gazed  the  night  through  and  thought  mainly 
but  of  that  bill  ? 

Look  I  like  a  blushing  bride,  that  Capt.  Roe 
thus  roomed  me  ?  True  on  this  eventful  evening 
I  met  the  love  of  my  youth — not  Anthony's 
Nose,  but  the  star-eyed  Hudson — my  soul  min- 
gled with  the  water,  and  the  water  and  the  sole 
other  element  with  which  it  should  ever  be  min- 
gled, became  one.  But  I'm  unaware  that  my 
face  shone  much  more  seraphically  than  usual. 

There  must  be  a  certain  poetry  in  my  face,  an 
eloquence  in  my  eye,  a  vague,  indefinite  yearning 
upon  my  brow,  that  I  should  be  treated  thus. 
It  may  be  that  ofttimes  a  man  possesses  a  grace 
whereof  he  himself  knows  not,  that  he  carries 
within  him  a  lamp  unseen  (or  kerosene)  to  him- 
self, but  plainly  visible  to  others,  so  that  all  get 
his  measure  at  once.  Looking  at  the  face  oppo- 
site me  in  the  mirror,  I  should  expect  that  a 
saddle  of  mutton  would  be  set  apart  for  me 
sooner  than  a  bridle-chamber ;  but  this  only 


My  Vacation.  57 

proves  how  little  men  know  themselves  and  how 
much  better  other  men  know  them. 

.  It  may  be  that  I  got  the  best  room  on  the 
boat  because  of  trusting  to  Providence  and  not 
telegraphing  or  making  a  fuss  to  secure  apart- 
ments before  starting.  Luck  hjelps  those  who 
do  not  help  themselves.  In  the  lottery  of  boats 
I  drew  the  Drew  ;  and  having  had  sufficient  for 
the  day,  I  gave  myself  no  concern  about  the 
night — did  not  even  ask  the  watchman  to  tell 
me  about  it.  Hoping  something  better,  but 
conscious  that  I  deserved  nothing  so  good,  and 
prepared,  if  need  be,  for  something  much  worse, 
I  was  ready  to  lie  down  with  the  cot-forsaken  * 
wretches  in  the  middle  aisle  of  the  cabin  if  noth- 
ing better  turned  up.  Look,  mark  you,  how  my 
patient  faith  and  calm  resignation  were  rewarded. 
And  sometimes  I  fancy  that  our  souls  would  get 
along  better  here  if  we  worried  less  about  them. 
Would  it  not  be  well  to  act  on  the  belief  that 
they're  checked  through  and  not  worry  about  the 
baggage  till  our  final  destination  is  reached  ? 

*  The  Great  Moral  Organ  thought  cot-forsaken  was-a 
"  cuss-word,"  and  crossed  it  out  off  the  copy  they  printed. 


58  My  Vacation. 

I  didn't  mean  to  drop  into  theology.  How  it 
thus  happened  I  have  no  idea  at  all,  unless  the 
portrait  of  Dre\v,  which  graces  the  broad  stairs 
of  the  boat  of  that  name,  inspired  the  train  of 
thought.  There  you  have  a  man  who  has 
attended  to  business  right  straight  along  ;  occa- 
sionally he'd  throw  away  $500,000  or  so  on  a 
theological  seminary,  perhaps,  or  pause  in  his 
good  career  to  give  a  friend  a  point,  but  he 
didn't  do  it  often.  All  his  life  long — ever  since 
he  was  drover  at  least — has  he  not  gone  about 
doing  good  and  putting  his  friends  into  good 
things  ?  Has  he  ever  stopped  all  this  while  to 
consider  that  he  had  a  soul  ?  Has  the  idea 
that  he  had  one  ever  occurred  to  any  body  else  ? 
One  says  we  are  villains  all,  another  that  all 
men  are  liars,  still  another  that  all  men  are  mad. 
There  has  invariably  been  a  methodism  in  the 
madness  of  the  good  Daniel,  however,  and 
now  the  end  seems  near.  There  is  no  reason, 
young  man,  why  your  last  end  should  not  be 
like  his  if  you  do  exactly  as  he  has  done — that 
is  to  say,  if  you  consistently  and  persistently 
"  do"  others. 


My  Vacation.  59 

But  why  so  much  about  soul  when  you  are  at 
Saratoga  ?  Why  dwell  upon  the  Hudson  when 
one  is  here  ?  you  ask.  Surely  the  words  of 
the  old  song,  a  song  that  was  tinkled  upon 
guitars  when  pianos  were  in  their  cradle,  cannot 
have  faded  from  out  your  memory  : 

My  heart's  in  the  Highlands, 
My  heart  is  not  here  : 

My  heart's  in  the  Highlands 
A-watching  the  steer, 
A-watching  the  steer- 
Ing  of  brave  Captain  Roe  : 

My  heart's  in  the  Highlands 
Wherever  I  go ! 

Saratoga  has  changed  in  some  particulars 
since  last  season.  She  looks  like  a  belle  who 
has  lost  a  front  tooth.  On  the  corner,  where 
the'  Grand  Central  last  year  stood,  there  is 
now  a  deficiency — as  of  an  incisor.  A  black 
and  jagged  gap  mars  the  clean  beauty  of  the  old 
maiden's  front  elevation.  To  offset  this,  though, 
the  old  end  of  her  most  righteous  and  sightly 
molar,  the  Grand  Union,  has  been  removed 
and  a  new  crown  built.  The  effect  is  incisive — 
fine. 


60  My  Vacation. 

In  order  to  improve  his  property,  Mr.  Stewart 
has  only  ruined  a  church  j  but  that's  nothing. 
You  can't  make  an  omelet  without  breaking  eggs, 
as  Bismarck  remarked.  "The  nearer  the 
Church  the  further  from  God,"  is  a  popular  say- 
ing ;  and  in  this  view  of  it,  where  could  bar-rooms 
and  billiard-rooms  be  more  fitly  situated  than  di- 
rectly alongside  sacred  walls  ?  This  door  lets 
you  into  the  bar-room,  the  door  just  above  lets 
you  into  a  Church.  You  see, 

"  There's  a  spirit  above 

And  a  spirit  below, 
There's  a  spirit  of  joy 

And  a  spirit  of  woe. 
The  spirit  above 

Is  a  spirit  divine, 
And  the  spirit  below 

Is  the  spirit  of  wine." 

Why  are  these  great  hotels  arranged  with  the 
ladies'  parlor  at  one  end  and  the  bar  at  the  other  ? 
Is  it  to  drive  young  men  to  extremities — to  force 
them  to  encounter  blue  ruin,  take  either  horn  of 
the  dilemma  they  choose  ?  There  is  no  warning 
sign  on  the  ladies'  parlor,  but  the  other  quarters 
are  made  conspicuous  by  a  huge  sign  in  letters 


My  Vacation.  61 

of  glittering  gilt.  The  sign  can  be  read  afar  otf, 
— and  your  nos£  will  be  red  too  if  you  approach 
it  much  nigher. 

Oh,  earnest  thoughts  within  me  rise, 

As  I  behold  afar 
Suspended  right  before  my  eyes 

The  shield  of  that  Great  Bar. 


I  don't  know  whether   that   is   Longworth   or 
Longfellow.     Ascribe  it  to  whom  you  will;  call 
the  verse  mine,  if  you  like,  and  the  bar  my  aver- 
sion. 

II  was  my  intention  to  say  a  great  deal  about 
the  improvement  that  has  taken  place  in  Saratoga. 
To  burn  one  hotel  down  and  build  another  up 
was  an  excellent  idea,  but  I  cannot  amplify  upon 
it  just  now  quite  so  much  as  I  could  wish.     If 
further  explanation  of  the  why  must  be  made,  I 
came  away  from  home  without   clothes.     And 
thus  far  the  most  urgent  appeals,  by  both  letter 
and   telegraph,   have   failed  to   bring    me   any. 
That  the  mere  fact  of  my  having  accidentally 
put  a  letter  intended  for  Mrs.  Paul  into  an  en- 
velope addressed  to  another  young  woman  fur- 


62  My  Vacation. 

nislies  an  explanation  of  the  domestic  reticence 
I  cannot  believe,  for  I'm  certain. that  I  made  the 
thing  even  by  putting  the  letter  intended  for  the 
other  young  woman  into  the  envelope  which  went 
to  Mrs.  Paul.  Nothing  could  be  fairer  than  a 
split  like  this,  for  certainly  it  carried  with  it  no 
percentage  in  favor  of  the  dealer  !  But  there  has 
been  a  silence  in  the  air,  a  muteness  about  the 
mail,  for  some  days  now,  and  no  clothes  arrive. 
(I  never  could  write  worth  a  cent  without  clothes.) 
The  simple  statement  that  she  had  received  a 
letter  evidently  intended  for  some  one  else  in.  an 
envelope  addressed  to  her  in  my  handwriting, 
and  the  incidental  remark  that  she  would  reserve 
comment  till  I  returned  home,  is  all  I  have  heard 
from  Mrs.  Paul  upon  the  subject.  But  strange  to 
say,  I  have  no  bounding  impatience  to  return 
home  and  hear  what  those  comments  are.  There 
never  was  much  curiosity  about  me  any  way,  and 
in  this  case  I  haven't  a  bit.  Much  as  I  would 
like  to  gaze  upon  the  innocent  face  of  Jonathan 
Edwards,  I  still  feel  that  it  is  better  to  postpone 
that  pleasure.  Being  without  clothes  is  some- 
thing of  a  drawback  to  human  happiness  certain- 


My  Vacation.  63 

ly,  but  I'd  rather  be  without  clothes  than  with- 
out hair.  And  perhaps,  if  the  weather  warms  up 
a  little,  I  won't  want  any. 


AFTER  THE  REGATTA. 

SOCIAL     CHANGES    WROUGHT    BY   THE    THE   OARS- 
MEN— A  MAN    IN    HIS   CUPS SILVER   CUPS   AND 

CHINA    BOWLS STEERING    DOWN   THE    DINING- 
ROOM   COURSE THOMPSON. 

SARATOGA,  July  19. 

At  once  there  rose  so  wild  a  yell, 
Within  that  dark  and  narrow  dell, 
As  all  the  fiends  from  hea-ven  that  fell 
Had  peeled  themselves  to  spell  Cornell. 

GHAT'S  Walter  Scott ! 
You'll  find  it  in  the  Lady  of  Saratoga 
Lake — long  measure  there,  but  common 
meet  her  here.  With  provisions  at  their  present 
price  I  can't  afford  much  original  poetry.  When 
I  do  drop  into  it,  just  for  old  acquaintance'  sake, 
the  bell  will  ring  long  enough  beforehand  to  let 
you  get  out  of  the  way. 

What  a  thing  it   is  to  be  a  "  gentleman  and 
a  sculler  "  now-a-days,  to  be  sure ! 


My  Vacation.  65 

C-O-R-N-E-L-L-L-L-L.  As  my  English  friend 
remarked,  they  made  an  L  of  a  noise  Given  an 
inch  at  the  winning-post,  they  wanted  a  good 
many  L's,  and  insisted  on  having  them. 

Saratoga  is  Golgotha  no  longer — not  now  is  it 
a  place  of  the  Sculls.  The  collegians  have 
shouldered  their  shells  and  vanished  into  their 
respective  vacations.  But  though  a  week  or  so 
has  silently  sculled  down  the  River  of  Time  since 
the  Regatta,  and  the  wakes  of  the  boats  have 
faded  from  out  the  bosom  of  the  lake,  the  ripple 
of  the  race  still  remains  upon  the  town,  ruffling 

the  spring  waters  and  agitating  fair  bosoms  into 

/ 

tumultuous  billows  of  tulle.  Ecru  is  no  longer 
an  outside  garment.  There  is  never  a  lady, 
young  or  old,  in  the  village,  to  the  manor  born 
or  only  a  "  transient  guest,"  who  does  not  wear 
a  crew  within.  And  the  winning  crew,  of  course. 
The  room  formerly  occupied  by  the  captain  of 
the  Columbia  was  assigned  to  me  on  arrival.  All 
its  decorations  are  white  and  blue,  the  carpet, 
the  furniture,  and  the  frescoes.  The  single  ex- 
ception is  found  in  my  shins,  which  are  black  and 
blue,  with  tumbling  over  the  wardrobes,  and  bu- 
5 


66  My  Vacation. 

reaus,  and  base-ball  clubs,  and  trapeze  bars  with 
which  the  apartment  was  lavishly  furnished  in 
honor  of  its  former  occupant.  All  the  day  long 
I  sit  here  on  the  floor  and  think  I'm  a  float,  I'm 
a  float — or  a  bobber,  a  bobber,  which  is  the  same 
thing  on  a  fish-line.  And  at  night  I  lay  myself 
down  to  dream  I'm  a  shell,  I'm  a  shell.  Waking, 
I  regret  to  find  I'm  not,  for  I'd  like  to  be  made 
of  paper  and  have  some  one  to  navigate  me — 
a  skilful  hand  could  perhaps  make  my  paper  pass 
current. 

The  excitement  has  left  its  imprint  on  society. 
Young  women  no  longer  ask  you  for  an  arm  ;  it 
is,  "  Give  me  your  starboard  oar,  please."  Instead 
of  proposing  a  walk  to  and  through  the  hotels, 
they  say,  "  Let  us  take  a  pull  round  the  hash 
cribs."  In  the  evening,  not  a  waltz  but  a  "double 
scull  race  "  is  suggested.  After  gliding  gracefully 
through  a  figure  or  two  of  the  Lancers,  your  part 
ner,in  a  whisper,  requests  you  to  "  make  a  spurt  at 
the  finish."  When  an  awkward  dancer  trips  he 
or  she  is  said  to  have  "  caught  a  crab."  A  young 
woman  no  longer  apologizes  for  her  hair  being 
disarranged,  but  says  that  her  row-locks  are  out 


My  Vacation.  67 

of  fix.  The  "  Origin  of  Races  "  is  asked  for  at 
the  bookstores,  and  an  impression  prevails  that 
the  Darwinian  theory  solves  the  vexed  question 
of  the  winnin'  stroke.  Sensible  people  are  no 
longer  said  to  be  level-headed,  but  to  "  keep  an 
even  keel."  A  young  man  making  inquiries  about 
a  girl  whose  figure  pleases  him  does  not  ask  what 
she  is  worth,  but,  What's  her  tonnage  ? 

Amid  this  freshet  of  boating  terms  the  good 
old  Saxon  and  horse  sense  of  the  racing  men 
shines  out  like  a  good  word  in  a  nautical  world. 

The  mania  has  even  infected  hotel  men.  Good 
schooner-built  Mr.  Breslin  got  the  fit  on  him  and 
spent  more  money  than  I  pay  him  in  a  week  for 
regatta  prizes — silver  cups.  A  man  must  be  in 
his  cups  to  do  that  sort  of  thing.  By  way  of  en- 
couraging this  thing  along,  the  captains  of  the 
crews  held  a  meeting  and  declined  the  prizes 
with  thanks.  Why  the  captains  did  so — alas 
poor  crews,  oh — unless  because  the  cups  were 
empty,  I  cannot  imagine.  Had  they  been  filled 
with  Rhenish — ruddy  Rudesheimer  or  amber 
Yquem — depend  upon't  there'd  have  been  a  pull 
for  them.  But  no  harm's  done.  Sooner  than 


68  My  Vacation. 

see  so  many  dollars'  worth  of  silver  go  a-begging, 
I'll  take  it  myself.  Put  the  cup  to  thy  nabob's 
lips,  O  beauteous  Breslin,  cup  me,  thou  cupper 
of  the  period,  and  all  your  trouble's  ended.  Fear 
no  refusal  ;  I  will  give  bonds  to  take  all  in  that 
line  that  is  offered  to  me. 

The  idea  of  a  landlord's  passing  round  silver 
cups  as  big  as  spittoons,  when  he  hasn't  a  bow- 
in  his  house !  Wishing  bread  and  milk  for  sup- 
per last  night,  I  called  for  a  bowl  of  it.  The 
waiter  brought  me  a  spoon  and  saucer,  and 
said  there  wasn't  a  bowl  in  the  house.  To  my 
hint  that  he  must  be  mistaken,  he  responded 
by  bringing  up  a  darkey  several  shades  darker 
than  himself,  who  declared  that  the  bowls  were 
all  done  broken  last  year.  The  head-waiter  on 
being  summoned  bowed  gravely  twice,  waved  his 
handkerchief,  delicately  perfumed  with  anchovy 
sauce,  three  times,  and,  as  by  magic,  three  slaves 
appeared  from  out  a  nebulous  cloud  of  Nubians 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  dining-room,  each  bear- 
ing a  bowl  triumphantly  aloft  on  a  silver  salver. 

This  morning,  however,  they  again  informed 
me  that  the  bowls  were  all  out — bowled  out,  I 


My  Vacation.  69 

suppose.  Now,  why  not  sell  that  silver  and  buy 
a  few  china  bowls  ?  By  the  way,  there  can  never 
be  a  better  place  than  this  to  remark,  that  Sam- 
uel Bowles  is  registered  at  the  United  States. 

A  sort  of  sea-change  has  come  over  the  Grand 
Union  dining-room.  Here,  too,  you  see  the  foot 
print  of  the  regatta — if  a  water-bull  may  be  al- 
lowed, and  why  not  when  sea-cows  cut  a  conspicu- 
ous figure  in  natural  history  ?  Your  proper  course 
down  the  dining-room  is  flagged  by  relays  o^ 
waiters,  holding  white  napkins  aloft.  The  start- 
er at  the  door  gives  an  initial  flirt  of  his  towel 
which  fans  you  down  to  where  you  see  still  an- 
other white  flag  gleaming  in  a  brunette's  raised 
right  hand  ;  for  that  you  steer.  Yaw  to  right  or 
left  and  you're  gone — you  "  foul  "  a  lot  of  flounces 
and  ribbons,  or,  worse  still,  sheer  square  into 
one  of  the  peripatetic  crockery  crates  that  ply  in 
wild  majesty  to  and  from  the  kitchen,  bearing 
what  viands  and  vegetables  they  don't  drop  down 
the  bosoms  and  backs  of  the  guests  they  encoun- 
ter, to  patient  watchers  and  waiters  already  seat- 
ed. This  flag-station  reached  and  you  are  sig- 
nalled to  move  on  to  another  ;  and  so  it  goes  till 


70  My  Vacation. 

you  at  last  get  to  the  steak,  winning  the  plate 
merely  by  a  head — a  broken  head  at  that,  pos- 
sibly. 

Ah,  much  do  we  miss  Thompson,  so  long  head 
waiter,  or  perhaps  I  should  say  to  preserve  the 
unities,  stroke  oar  of  the  dining-room.  He,  poor 
fellow,  has  caught  a  crab — a  bad  one — and  they 
fear  its  name  is  consumption.  Never  can  his 
place  at  the  prow  be  filled,  I  fear.  A  great 
many  of  the  guests  have  lost  their  interest  in 
eating,  now  that  he's  not  here  to  boss  the  job. 

His  was  the  courtly  bow,  his  the  grand  man- 
ner. It  was  something  to  be  passed  down  the 
long  line  of  heroes,  descended  from  heroes,  by 
the  wave  of  his  white  napkin.  Not  a  waiter  in 
the  dining-room  but  knew  what  that  wild  wave 
was  saying,  sister.  Like  Jullien's  baton,  the 
wonderful  flourish  of  which  defied  imitation,  no 
successor  can  take  up  the  napkin  when  the  mas- 
ter lays  it  down.  Emulation  is  vain  ;  hang  up 
the  damask  alongside  the  fiddle  and  the  hoe, 
good  people.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  discourage 
struggling  genius,  but  better  let  Thompson's 
successor  flourish  shillalah,  for  nothing  less  will 


My  Vacation.  71 

keep  in  hand  those  subordinates  who  of  old  were 
held  by  but  his  glittering  eye  and  a  napkin. 

Think  not  that  a  grateful  feeling  for  favors 
in  past  times  received  moves  me  to  this  tribute. 
On  the  contrary  Thompson  was  always  severe  to 
independent  journalists,  and  he  snubbed  me 
often.  One  season  he  refused  me  a  round  table ; 
the  next  he  took  Amos  from  me  ;  still  another 
season  he  put  me  at  a  table  that  had  only  three 
legs  to  its  back.  But  justice  shall  be  done  though 
the  ceiling  of  the  dining-room  falls.  He  was  a 
wonderful  head-waiter. 

To  return  to  the  matter  of  bowls.  On  Tues- 
day, Wednesday,  and  Thursday,  they  dined  5900 
persons  at  the  Grand  Union — that  is  an  average 
of  nearly  2000  a  day.  Now  it  would  be  man- 
ifestly improper  to  expect  a  hotel-keeper  to  fur- 
nish so  many  bowls  as  that.  Suppose  all  should 
take  a  fancy  to  call  for  bread  and  milk  at  the 
same  time — 2000  of  them — why,  we'd  have  to 
run  out  and  borrow  bowls,  for  I  don't  believe 
there  are  so  many  to  be  had  for  the  buying  in 
the  world. 

As  to  other  changes  in  this  dining-room,  Wil- 


72  My  Vacation. 

liam,  my  old-time  friend  and  waiter,  has  gone 
back  on  me,'  has  learned  to  love  another.  But 
he  consented  to  be  "  interviewed  "on  the  piazza 
this  morning.  A  bald  spot  shows  on  the  top  of 
his  head,  and  he's  going  to  marry.  In  the 
meanwhile  he  is  waiting  on  a  bride  and  groom, 
who  have  a  private  table  set  for  them,  that  so  he 
may  learn  how  to  behave  himself  when  he  too 
joins  the  noble  army  of  martyrs.  Comfortably 
off  he  was  two  summers  ago  ;  now  he  rolls  in 
wealth,  which  shows  how  sublime  a  thing  it  is  to 
wait  upon  me  several  seasons  in  succession. 

Amos  is  still  on  hand,  and  seems  to  feel  as 
friendly  towards  me  as  ever.  For  when  he  wait- 
ed on  me  by  accident  the  other  day,  and  I  in- 
formed him  at  the  close  of  the  repast  that  mis- 
fortunes had  come  upon  me  financially,  and  I 
could  not  give  him  a  douceur,  as  of  old,  he  look- 
ed really  sorry.  So,  I  think,  he  sympathized 
with  me. 

This  season  I've  not  been  very  lucky  at 
table,  I  never  get  the  same  waiter  twice.  Di- 
rectly I  fix  one  fellow  with  a  dollar,  he  is  trans- 
ferred elsewhere — or  I  am — and  there's  a  new 


My  Vacation.  73 

man  behind  my  chair.  There  are  more  men  in 
that  dining-room,  I  find,  than  I've  got  dollars. 
Here  you  have  the  principle  of  the  dear  gazelle 
again — a  principle  which  runs  all  through  life — 
also,  you  have  the  tree  and  flower  idea.  "I 
never  nursed,"  etc.  Vide  Moore,  if  you  want  any 
more  of  it. 

I  sincerely  hope  that  this  letter  will  not  get 
into  an  envelope  directed  to  Mrs.  Paul,  and  that 
the  one  intended  for  her  will  not  get  into  the 
Great  Moral  Organ.  Things  are  complicated 
enough  as  they  stand.  That  telegraphed  for  trunk 
has  arrived.  It  contains  a  hundred  writing  cards, 
a  dozen  collars,  a  dozen  pairs  of  cuffs,  a  dozen 
pocket-handkerchiefs,  and  not  a  single  shirt. 
Men  do  not  live  by  collars,  cuffs,  and  handker- 
chiefs alone.  I'm  no  more  fit  to  go  into  general 
company  now  than  I  was  before.  I  don't  know 
what  you  call  this  ;  I  call  it,  REVENGE. 


BANKERS   IN    CONVENTION. 

CAPITALISTS  EITHER    POOR   OR    MEAN — HOW    A 
PROPOSITION  TO  PASS  ROUND  A  HAT  BROKE  UP 

THE  CONVENTION THE  DIGNITY   OF    FISHING 

— A  CHILDREN'S  HOP. 

SARATOGA,  July  22. 

JARATOGA  is  brimming  over  with  bank- 
ers and  brokers,  who  have  come  to  at- 
tend the  Bankers'  and  Brokers'  Con- 
vention which  convened  on  the  2oth.  That 
you  may  not  buck  against  them  without  knowing 
whom  you  encounter,  they  wear  blue  badges. 
Every  delegate  displays  one,  because  they  are 
given  out  gratis.  A  charge  of  a  penny  apiece 
would  have  given  the  manufacturer  a  profit  and 
made  buttonholes  less  blossoming  with  blue,  per- 
haps. For  who  would  have  indulged  in  an  ex- 
travagance so  useless  ?  Surely  a  man  could  re- 
member he  was  a  banker  without  wearing  a  seton 
of  ribbon  to  remind  him  of  it. 


My  Vacation.  75 

"  What  have  you  come  together  for  ?  "  I  in- 
quired of  a  proud  millionaire. 

"  Well,  to  have  a  good  time  for  one  thing," 
he  replied. 

Unfortunately  two  things  interfered  with  their 
having  a  good  time.  First,  they  had  no  money ; 
secondly,  they  were  too  mean  to  have  spent  it 
had  they  had  any.  When  the  Convention  prom- 
ised to  last  too  long  and  it  became  evident  that 
neither  pleasure  nor  business  was  meant,  a 
cashier  who  had  a  pleasant  cottage  at  Mon- 
mouth  Beach  and  wanted  to  get  back  to  it, 
proposed  a  contribution  of  ten  dollars  apiece  for 
incidental  expenses,  and  passed  round  the  hat. 
It  was  like  firing  a  double-barrelled  gun  into  a 
lot  of  crows  cawing  in  a  cornfield.  The  Conven- 
tion broke  up  in  wild  confusion,  amid  cries  of 
"  Put  him  out,"  "  Deny  him  the  privileges  of  the 
Clearing-house."  "  Mash  his  hat."  A  prop- 
osition to  finish  with  a  dinner  this  evening  was 
carried  faintly,  few  voting,  fewer  still  subscrib- 
ing for  it  And  it  did  seem  ridiculous,  the  pro- 
position to  waste  money  on  chowder,  cabbage, 
pork  and  beans,  and  other  sweetmeats,  when  a 


76  My  Vacation. 

Chinese  puzzle  and  three  cents  worth  of  slippery 
elm  will  entertain  a  roomful  for  a  whole  evening. 
Capital  and  I  never  could  agree.  Labor  and 
it  have  been  antagonistic  ever.  Money  was 
long  ago  pronounced  the  root  of  all  evil,  and  I 
don't  like  to  see  it  sprout  near  me.  Judge  of 
my  horror,  then,  when  a  broad-brimmed  banker 
from  Arkansas  got  up  and  said  his  name  was 
Roots  and  insisted  on  spelling  it  out  in  full  for 
the  benefit  of  the  Convention.  What  a  turn  up 
was  there,  my  brethren.  Were  ever  such  roots 
played  on  capitalists  before  ?  And,  what  a  hat ! 
But,  as  was  remarked  in  the  beginning  of  this 
paragraph,  capital  and  labor  are  very  unlike. 
Thus  a  laborer  is  worth  nothing  if  he  be  dis- 
sipated ;  capital  is  of  no  good  to  anybody  till  it 
is. 

The  Frenchman  who  said  that  the  Lord  showed 
what  he  thought  of  money  by  the  kind  of  people 
he  gave  it  to,  was  not  far  out  of  the  way. 

Fishermen  are  my  friends.  Call  you  fishing 
an  ignoble  profession  ?  Of  whom  were  the 
Apostles  chosen  ?  Eleven  fishermen,  if  I  recollect 
rightly,  and  only  one  banker  and  broker  among 


My  Vacation.  77 

them.  No  need  that  I  recall  the  business  that 
fellow  made  of  it,  the  commercial  transaction  in 
which  he  indulged  ;  the  sorry  way  in  which  he 
discounted  his  own  soul  for  30  pieces  of  silver. 
In  these  days  of  inflation  and  cheap  paper  money 
the  net  profit  of  the  transaction  may  seem  small, 
but  in  that  primitive  era,  before  banking  had 
assumed  its  present  gigantic  proportions,  30 
pieces  of  silver  were  not  to  be  sneezed  at,  and 
Judas  probably  got  the  credit  of  being  a  shrewd 
driver  of  a  bargain  and  had  a  good  name  on 
'Change. 

Do  you  wonder  that  I  indulge  in  this  venom  ? 
Consider  the  circumstances.  I  came  here  to 
borrow  a  little  money  of  these  congregated 
capitalists.  None  had  any  to  lend.  On  the 
contrary,  several  wanted  to  borrow  of  me.  One 
of  them  raked  up  an  old  indebtedness  against 
me,  an  indebtedness  I  had  forgotten,  and  which 
he  ought  to  have.  When  a  bank-balance  is 
against  one,  he  may  surely  be  pardoned  for  losing 
his  equilibrium. 

But  I  must  confess  to  an  ardent  admiration 
for  the  perspicacity  of  the  really  great  banker, 


78  My  Vacation. 

personally  inconvenient  as  it  often  proves.     He 
gets  at  you  in  a  moment,  knows  if   you  are  to  be 
trusted  by  looking  at  you,  measures  you  mentally 
and   morally    by   the   application   of     invisible 
calipers.      Reads  he  the  indorser  on  the  piece  of 
paper  which  you  present  ?  puts  he  it  to  his  eye  ? 
No,  to  his  nose.     Fact.     It  is  recorded  of  a  late 
eminent  bank  president  that  a  bit  of  paper  Bear- 
ing  the   name  of  a  successful   dry-goods   man, 
against   whose   credit   never   a   word  had   been 
spoken,  was  once  offered  him  for  discount.     Mr. 
President  took  off  his  glasses  and  laid  them  on 
the  table  ;    then  he  smelled  of  the  paper  and 
shook  his  head.    "  Too  much  horse,"  he  remarked 
quietly   and   laid    it   down.      Further    comment 
there  was  not,  neither  was  there  discount  of  that 
piece  of  paper.     The  drawer  of  it  kept  20  horses. 
In  less  than  a  month  he  went  all  to  pieces.      No 
need,  you  see,  of  a  banker's  having  a  good  head ; 
all  that's  necessary  is  a  nose. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  charming  coolness 
of  the  weather  would  seem  to  favor  it,  they  do 
not  dance  here  with  the  vim  of  former  days.  A 
few  languid  fossils  go  on  the  floor  and  keep  step 


My  Vacation,  79 

to  the  music  of  the  Union,  and  at  Congress  Hall 
and  the  United  States  a  little  tame  hopping  is 
hazarded,  but  there  is  not  the  swing  to  it  of 
fifteen  years  ago. 

The  children  had  a  hop  on  Wednesday  evening, 
and  this  would  have  been  enjoyable  for  the 
prettiness  of  the  scene  had  it  not  been  for  the 
reflection  that  the  little  dears,  hours  before,  had 
better  have  hopped  into  bed.  Jonathan  Edwards 
is  but  five  months  old  and  at  present  leads  the 
French — his  humid  nurse  from  Limerick — 
considerable  of  a  dance.  But  even  when  he 
attains  to  the  full  dignity  of  five  years,  I  much 
doubt  whether  he  will  be  permitted  to  lead  the 
German.  Regarding  the  future  of  Jona — but 
you  know  not  all  this  while  who  and  what  Jona- 
than Edwards  is.  I  plainly  see  that  I  shall  have 
to  explain  this  at  some  future  time,  for  he  is 
uppermost  in  my  mind,  and  mention  of  him 
crops  out  when  I  least  mean  it. 

A  more  sensible  idea  than  a  children's  hop, 
lasting  until  near  upon  the  small  hours,  is  a 
children's  lawn  party,  and  this,  Prof.  Manuel 
informs  me,  is  down  for  one  of  the  entertainments 


8o  My  Vacation. 

of  August.  A  carte  blanche  has  been  given  him, 
and  the  grounds  of  the  Grand  Union  are  to  be 
decorated  with  all  the  resources  of  art.  The 
sight  will  be  worth  coming  to  see.  White  dresses, 
and  pink  sashes,  and  red  cheeks,  and  happy  eyes, 
and  little  feet  toddling  over  the  green  grass,  with 
proud  papas  and  magnificent  mammas  looking 
on,  while  Susan,  omnipresent  in  her  Swiss  cap, 

A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned, 
To  comfort,  counsel,  and  command, 

wheels  the  baby  barouche,  or  clucks  her  particular 
charge  around  her;  much  better  this,  I  should 
say,  than  an  evening  hop.  If  children  are  to  be 
hoppers,  let  them  be  grasshoppers.  Immolate 
them  not  to  the  Moloch  of  fashion, upon  a  hot 
and  waxen  floor,  beneath  the  glare  of  gas  bur- 
ners, and  in  an  atmosphere  made  stifling  by  oft 
repeated  breathings,  but  bring  them  out  upon 
the  turf,  garland  their  pretty  necks  with  flowers — 
and  then  do  what  you  will  with  them,  if  they 
make  too  much  noise. 


IN  RACE  WEEK. 

THE     RACES LUCK — THE     CROWD NEW     PHASE 

OF  THE  SLAVE  TRADE — THOMPSON'S  SEASONS 
ENDED — AN  EXCLUSIVE  SET — BELLES,  BANKERS 
AND  LIONS — JONATHAN  EDWARDS. 

SARATOGA,  July  25. 

But  Launcelot  mused  a  little  space : 

He  said,  It  was  a  lovely  race, 

Though  Sharlotte  got  but  second  place. 

|  HAT'S  Tennyson  ! 
There  are  few  descriptions  of  a  race 
anywhere,  in  poetry  or  even  in  good 
prose — which,  after  all,  is  the  highest  achievment 
of  poetic  excellence — finer  than  the  one  from 
which  yon  quotation  comes.  But  Tennyson's 
strong  suit  was  describing  regattas.  Remem- 
ber you  the  single  scull  race  down  the  river,  the 
dead  steered  by  the  dumb,  the  entrance  of  Elaine 
against  Guinevere  and  a  sort  of  a  dead  heat  of 
it  at  the  finish  ?  Somehow  I  never  could  read 

that  story  without  emotion  ;  unless  I  happen  to 
6 


82  My  Vacation. 

have  two  handkerchiefs  with  me  I  never  read  it 
at  all. 

But,  to  go  on  to  what  I  was  going  to  say.  For 
a  regular  race,  money  up  and  no  nonsense,  there 
were  never  two  finer  races  run  than  the  first  two 
of  to-day — the  opening  day  of  this  meeting. 
In  the  first  race  ten  horses  ran  together  so  close- 
ly that  you  could  have  covered  them  with  a 
blanket  almost.  In  the  second  race  four  horses 
ran  together  so  you  could  have  covered  them 
with  a  dinner  napkin  quite — had  it  been  large 
enough.  And  in  both  races  the  favorites  were 
beaten.  Further  than  this  I  will  not  duplicate 
the  descriptions  that  will  have  been  before  the 
public  a  month  or  two  before  this  gets  into  print. 
But  let  me  illustrate  the  luck  which  attends  upon 
the  heels  of  some  men  all  through  life.  The  point 
was  out  to-day  to  buy  on  Grinstead's  entries — St. 
Martin  and  D'Artagnan  in  the  first  race — it  be- 
ing known  that  Belmont  and  Puryear  had  backed 
them  heavily.  This  point  somehow  prodded  it- 
self into  the  ear  of  a  man  who  knows  nothing 
about  either  horses  or  anything  else — not  even 
railroads.  Off  he  went  and  bought  a  big  pool 


My  Vacation.  83 

on  Grinstead — a  horse  in  the  second  race — for 
fifty  dollars,  winning  thereby  about  a  thousand. 
Got  the  point  stuck  in  the  wrong  ear,  you  see, 
bought  another  horse  in  an  entirely  different  race 
and  yet  made  enough  to  pay  his  Summer's  ex- 
penses out  of  the  mistake.  There's  no  beating 
a  man  of  that  brilliant  talent !  Again,  St.  Mar- 
tin didn't  start  in  the  first  race.  A  gay  old  sport 
who  had  bought  a  pool  on  the  Grinstead  entries 
was  furious  and  vented  his  indignation  publicly 
— it  was  on  St.  Martin  he  had  bought,  D'Artag- 
nan  he  would'nt  have  had  at  any  price  ;  he  even 
offered  to  sell  out  at  a  small  profit  on  what  the 
pool  cost  him  and  a  new  hat — which  he  needed 
badly  enough,  certainly.  Well,  while  he  was 
going  round  in  this  way,  St.  Martin  came  in  win- 
ner, and  my  shrewd  sport  picked  up  something 
over  a  thousand  dollars.  Call  you  this  luck  ? 
Wrong,  friend.  Here  you  have  life. 

By  the  way,  Bergh  is  in  the  burgh.  What  for, 
unless  to  put  a  stop  to  the  races,  I  can't  for  the 
life  of  me  imagine.  If  roweling  a  horse's  side 
with  a  spur  till  the  blood  spurts  is  not  as  bad  as 
peppering  a  pigeon's  ribs  with  bird-shot,  I'm  no 


84  My  Vacation. 

judge  of  beef.  If  Mr.  Bergh  had  but  done  his 
duty  this  morning  and  stepped  in  to  stop  pro- 
ceedings, he  would  have  saved  me  money,  and  to 
his  praise  this  page  would  have  been  given.  As 
it  is,  the  sport  will  probably  be  allowed  to  proceed 
till  I  get  on  a  winning  horse  by  some  inscrutable 
accident  ;  then  a  "  squelch"  will  be  put  on  the 
race  when  the  winner  is  almost  under  the  string. 
Here  you  have  my  luck. 

Saratoga  was  never  fuller  and  gayer  than  now, 
I  fancy.  Parlors,  piazzas,  streets,  alike  are  full. 
All  the  hotels  complain  of  being  overrun,  and  the 
Grand  Union  certainly  is,  for  to  my  certain  knowl- 
edge it  has  been  turning  people  away  for  'some 
time  past.  (When  a  hotel  wants  me  to  go  it  has 
only  to  present  the  bill.)  Omnibuses  rattle  up 
and  unburden  themselves  at  the  doors  ;  nimble 
hall-boys  fly  round  with  whisk-brooms  in  their, 
hands,  eager  to  brush  all  the  ten-cent  pieces  out 
of  your  clothes  ;  shouts  for  porter  and  chamber- 
'znaid  echo  through  chambers  and  corridors ; 
curses  on  the  waiters  fizz  out,  hot  and  steaming 
through  the  dining-room  windows  and  in  strange 
cadenza  mingle  with  the  music  of  Lander;  the 


My  Vacation.  85 

pool-room  is  piled  high  to  the  ceiling  with  hippo- 
phagous  humanity,  and  even  the  springs  are  so 
crowded  that  the  Do  wager  this  morning  only  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  seven  glasses  aboard  before  the 
surge  that  billowed  up  to  the  fountain  caught  her 
upon  its  foaming  crest,  and  landed  her,  like  a 
huge  butter-tub  high  and  dry  on  the  top  of  the 
sun-dial  outside.  There  she  sat  like  a  patient  on 
a  monument,  smiling  at  lean  people. 

•Rivalry  among  the  hotels  has  ceased,  and  in- 
stead of  spending  their  spare  time  in  contriving 
how  to  draw  people  to  them  the  proprietors  now 
meet  daily  to  discuss  in  earnest  council  the  best 
means  of  driving  them  away.  With  the  proverb 
ial  ingenuity  of  inn-keepers,  they  have  already 
hit  on  some  excellent  devices  for  doing  it.  Pos- 
sibly no  adequate  reason  can  be  given  excusing 
or  explaining  why  the  spirit  of  mortal  should  be 
proud  ;  but  again  there  is  no  reason  familiar  to 
the  common  sense  of  reflecting  individuals,  why 
the  spirit  of  a  proud  though  erring  mortal  should 
stand  more  than  a  mule,  and  some  day  there'll 
be  a  stampede.  I'm  comfortable  enough,  for  I'm 
rich.  But  trading  in  human  beings  was  always 


86  My  Vacation. 

abhorrent  to  me,  and  long,  long  before  the  war,  I 
came  to  the  front  as  a  most  agitative  Abolitionist  : 
now  that  the  war  is  ended,  slavery  abolished  and 
the  Civil  Rights  Bill  passed,  I  don't  like  to  find 
myself  obliged  to  buy  a  drove  of  darkies  in  order 
to  get  what  I  want.  I  have  always  been  in  the 
habit  of  securing  a  mortgage  on  one  the  moment 
I  arrive  at  a  hotel,  but  the  possession  of  a  dozen 
is  embarrassing.  The  expense  is  nothing — I 
never  take  expense  into  account  when  comfort 
is  concerned  and  they'll  charge  things  to  me — 
but  the  complications  are  annoying  and  frequent. 
In  an  eager  desire  to  be  of  use  to  you,  one  zealous 
servitor  takes  away  the  dish  which  another  has 
just  brought,  and  between  all  these  scamp-stools 
your  dinner  falls  to  the  ground.  To-day,  in  par- 
ticular— 

But  of  to-day  let  us  not  speak.  'Twas  con- 
fusion wdrse  confounded,  and  now  comes  a  reason 
for  it.  Thompson,  the  old  head-waiter,  of  whose 

» 

dangerous  illness  I  made  mention  in  a  previous 
letter,  died  this  morning.  The  waiters  are  be- 
wildered with  grief,  and  several  times  this  after- 
noon I  have  caught  the  proprietor  of  the  house 


My  Vacation.  87 

drying  his  eyes.  "  He  was  a  good  man  and  a 
faithful  man,  and  a  most  useful  man  to  me,"  plead- 
ed Mr.  Breslin,  excusing  his  tears.  Excuse  them 
not  to  me,  good  friend  ;  tears  oftentimes  honor 
those  who  shed  them  no  less  than  the  ones  for 
whom  they  fall.  It  is  good  to  see  the  services 
of  one  who  has  filled  faithfully  and  well  a  position 
comparatively  humble,  so  humanely  and  heartily 
acknowledged  by  an  employer.  A  tear  on  the 
grave  of  a  faithful  servant  praises  the  living  as 
well  as  the  dead.  'Twill  be  hard  indeed  to  fill 
Thompson's  place.  Even  while  he  lay  sick,  dying, 
the  fact  that  he  lived  and  was  not  deposed  from 
his  authoritative  place,  exercised  a  controlling 
influence  over  the  untamed  barbarians  of  yon 
Great  Sahara  of  a  saloon.  Something  so  the 
spirit  of  the  dead  Cid  animated  his  followers, 
each  hand  grasped  its  good  blade  more  strongly 
and  eyes  were  steadier  and  courage  higher  when 
mounted  on  his  coal  black  charger,  firm  in  the 
saddle,  his  helmet  plume  nodding  in  the  sunlight 
but  visor  down,  dead,  the  Cid  rode  through  the 
ranks  of  his  army ! 

But  though  rivalry  among  the  hotels  may  have 


88  My  Vacation. 

ceased  to  exist,  it  is  by  no  means  extinct  among 
the  guests.  Each  prides  himself  or  herself  on 
having  at  his  or  her  house  a  more  exclusive  set 
than  there  is  at  any  other.  So  Mr.  Bowles,  wor- 
thy man  that  he  is,  one  whom  you  would  think 
should  be  nothing  if  not  Republican,  after  din- 
ing with  me  at  the  Grand  Union,  assured  me 
that  they  had  much  nicer  people  at  the  States. 
To  determine  this  it  became  necessary  to  dine 
with  him.  Immediately  on  entering  the  dining- 
room  I  saw  that  he  had  the  right  of  it.  First 
my  dazzled  eyes  lit  upon  Judge  Fitch,  at  the  next 
table  sat  Jimmy  O'Brien.  A  little  farther  along 
the  battered  nose  of  a  veteran  ex-pugilist  lent 
grace  to  the  picture,  and  not  far  removed  from 
him  you  saw  the  lily  face  of  Benjamin  Wood 
paling  its  ineffectual  chalk  against  the  dead 
whiteness  of  the  wall.  After  we  sat  down  at 
table  Price  McGrath  pranced  past  us,  and  anon 
came  a  Congressman.  This  filled  out  the  canvas, 
and  I  acknowledged  with  a  blush  upon  both 
cheeks  that  the  States,  as  compared  with  our 
hotel,  had  quite  a  different  set  of  people.  Dis- 
tinction without  much  of  a  difference  all  round. 


My  Vacation.  89 

Who  ever  knew  a  hotel  refuse  anybody's  money? 
Really  I  should  like  to  find  one  that  would  refuse 
mine — for,  though  by  pride  the  angels  may  have 
fallen,  it  has  never  stood  in  my  way  much. 
Things  and  people  will  get  mixed  in  life,  especial- 
ly at  watering  places.  What  says  the  hymn  ? — 
and  let  it  speak  also  to  her : 

Though  in  this  outward  world  below 
The  wheat  and  tares  together  grow, 
A  threshing  day  will  surely  come, 
And  then  the  tares  will  get  teared — some. 

Would  you  like  to  know  who  is  here  ?  This 
brilliant  brunette,  with  complexion  warm  and 
clear  as  the  tint  of  a  damask  rose,  hair  of  her 
own  so  plentiful  that  women  wonder  and  men 
admire  as  she  passes,  hair  that  defies  any  arrange- 
ment other  than  in  those  massive  coils  which  so 
well  become  the  wearer ;  eyes  of  a  hazel  so  dark 
that  they  border  upon  black,  teeth  not  of  the  hue 
of  pearls,  but  of  a  live  color,  and  perfect  in  form 
— teeth  that  flash  and  mean  something ;  a  step 
with  a  spring  in  it  like  that  of  one  of  the  blue- 
grass  racers  out  yonder  in  the  Kentucky  stables  ; 
a  curve  of  the  graceful  neck  and  a  toss  of  the 


go  My  Vacation 

head  that  show  a  temper  which  won't  stand, 
nagging  or  bullying — that  is  the  wife  of  a  New- 
York  banker,  and  it  is  little  wonder  that  people 
ask  who  'tis,  for  a  pleasant  home  and  brown 
little  gypsies  of  children  occupy  her  to  the 
exclusion,  generally,  of  Saratoga. 

This  lady,  whose  gray  hair  circles  her  head 
like  a  crown,  with  a  complexion  fair  and  soft 
enough  for  twenty,  and  with  dark  blue  eyes  so 
clear  and  liquid  that,  looking  into  them,  you  see 

* 

scarce  more  than  sixteen  years  reflected — unless 
you  happen  to  be  fifty  yourself ;  this  lady,  who 
looks  like  a  duchess  and  bears  herself  like  one, 
is  the  wife  of  one  of  New  York's  most  prominent 
lawyers.  The  lady  with  her,  graceful  and  willowy 
in  form,  whose  sweet  but  sad  smile  arrested 
your  attention  as  we  came  into  the  room,  enters 
with  very  little  zest  into  the  gay  scene  around 
her ;  she  tries  to  appear  interested  and  amused, 
but  you  know  that  her  thought  is  far  away,  that 
still  she  bends  above  a  little  grave  in  a  distant 
church-yard  ;  in  her  eyes  you  see  a  longing  for 
the  touch  of  a -hand  that  is  gone  ;  in  her  tones  is 
a  yearning  for  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still. 


My  Vacation.  91 

Together  she  and  the  elder  lady  sit,  mother  and 
daughter,  inseparable  ;  you  seldom,  if  ever,  find 
one  apart  from  the  other. 

The  young  lady  of  the  tall,  lithe  figure, 
promenading  the  parlor  with  her  bachelor  cousin, 
comes  from  a  pleasant  little  village  nor  far  from 
Northampton.  If  you  sit  on  the  piazza  after  the 
lamps  are  lit,  and  look  into  her  dark  eyes,  young 
man,  you  do  it  at  your  peril.  Many  a  collegian 
of  Amherst  would  have  stood  higher  in  his  class 
this  year  had  he  not  yielded  to  the  dangerous 
spell  and  endeavored  to  construe  a  glance  in  his 
favor  when  he  should  have  been  construing  the 
less  bewildering  gerunds.  If  not  a  fickle  wild 
rose,  she's  a  wild  mountain  deer. 

And  you  really  do  want  to  know  who  that 
other  young  lady  is,  slender,  if  not  petite,  in  form, 
with  face  that  reminds  you  of  a  finely-cut  cameo. 
The  dark  hair  clustering  over  her  fair  brow 
brings  out  its  outlines  in  stronger  light  and  adds 
to  the  classic  beauty  of  each  feature.  Well,  that 
pleasant-looking  old  lady  by  her  side  is  her 
grandmother.  A  week  and  more  ago  a  friend 
and  I  set  determinedly  about  making  the  aquaint- 


92  My  Vacation. 

ance  of  the  young  lady.  Thus  far  we've  got  no 
further  than  the  grandmother — there  we  stick. 
So  you  may  as  well  hang  up  your  fiddle  as 
regards  any  hope  of  scraping  an  acquaintance 
in  that  direction,  George  Augustus.  Where 
respectable  married  men  fail,  what  have  you  to 
hope  for,  young  scapegrace  ? 

That  tall  gentleman  who  would  be  taller  if  he 
did  not  stoop  a  little,  his  incisive  if  not  aggres- 
sive head  and  face  thrust  slightly  forward  as 
though  to  meet  you  in  argument  or  repartee  at 
least  half  way,  his  bright  keen  eye  taking  in 
everything  that  passes,  yet  betraying  a  kindliness 
in  its  depths  that  surprises  those  who  know  him 
only  by  his  newspaper  savageries,  a  man  whom 
you  would  at  once  set  down  as  decidedly  out  of 
the  common,  is  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  the 
foremost  and  best  known  newspaper  of  New 
England  — The  Springfield  Republican.  Is  it  not 
something  to  have  established  a  provincial  news- 
paper in  a  not  over  promising  locality  and  made 
for  it  a  National  reputation  ?  The  slightly  grizzled 
mustache  and  full  beard  into  which  the  chin 
vanishes  with  a  Vandyckness,  as  it  were,  are 


My  Vacation.  93 

the  gentleman's  own,  undoubtedly  ;  I  hope  I  do 
not  betray  a  family  secret  when  I  state  that  the 
full  flowing  hair,  brushed  loosely  back,  is  a  wig. 

Yon  middle-sized  man,  with  red  hair  and 
mustache,  nose  on  the  retroussk  order,  thick  neck, 
a  head  whereon  a  skating  rink  is  in  rapid  process 
of  construction,  who  stands  a  little  lop-sided  and 
stutters  considerably — is  Isaac  Sherman,  the 
great  financier,  with  whom  I  am  often  seen  in 
conversation. 

Stop,  look,  we're  in  conversation  now  !  That 
man  whom  he  holds  by  the  buttonhole,  the  man 
with  grave,  thoughtful  face,  short,  gray,  full 
beard,  pleasant  smile,  black  coat,  and  altogether 
the  air  of  the  owner  of  a  square  pew  in  an  up- 
town church — that  is  a  man  equally  eminent  as 
theologian  and  financier — even  I.  At  this  pre- 
sent moment  we  are  not  talking  finance,  but 
ventilation  ;  both  our  families  are  suffering  from 
sewer  gases,  and  we  are  preparing  to  enlighten 
the  public  on  a  subject  whereon  they  should  be 
enlightened,  even  if  we  have  to  encounter  the 
rebuff  of  sulphuretted  hydrogen  at  every  step  and 
the  wet-blanket  of  fire-damp  at  every  bound. 


94  My  Vacation. 

The  gentleman  in  a  white  flannel  suit,  all  but 
the  shirt,  which  is  made  of  ruffled  cambric,  and 
the  cravat,  which  is  deftly  woven  of  twilled  jute, 
is  the  president  of  the  New- York  Stock  Ex- 
change. The  gray-haired  and  gray  bearded  old 
gentleman  to  whom  the  president  is  expressing 
those  financial  views  to  which  I  always  listen 
with  awe  and  amazement,  is  the  ex-president  of 
a  railroad  that  would  stand  remarkably  high  in 
the  stock  list  at  present  had  its  shares  but  gone 
up  within  the  past  year  as  energetically  as  they 
have  fallen.  He  is  fond  of  euchre,  plays  a  not- 
oriously poor  game,  and  owes  me  for  three 
straight  games  which  he  lost,  but  for  all  that  he 
shouldn't  expect  a  man  to  let  him  deal  all  the 
while. 

That  babe  with  whom  the  nurse  is  perambula- 
ting on  the  back  piazza,  is — ,no,you  reckon  without 
your  host  this  time.  It  is  not  Jonathan  Edwards. 
Jonathan  would  not  take  kindly  to  Congress  water, 
I  fear  and  there  are  other  reasons  why  he  will  not 
visit  Saratoga  this  season — the  most  prominent 
one  perhaps  being  that  his  mother  won't  come. 
Depend  upon  it  you'll  never  see  him-Svheeled 


My  Vacation.  95 

round  in  a  perambulator,  his  nurse  standing  at 
his  back.  There's  no  premium  for  cross-eyed 
children  that  I  know  of,  and  if  there  were  we 
wouldn't  enter  him  for  it  thus  early  in  life. 
Scarce  a  child  do  you  see  around  the  hotel  that 
has  not  a  Ben  Butler  bend  about  its  lamps,  all 
because  of  these  infernal  back-action  perambu- 
lators. And  in  no  respect  does  the  child  to 
which  you  have  called  my  attention  resemble 
Jonathan  Edwards  for  Jonathan  has  the  most 
lovely — 

There,  dinner  !  You  must  wait  to  know  what 
Jonathan  Edwards  really  is  like  till  another 
time. 


FINANCE  EXPLAINED  TO  FINANCIERS. 

THE      PRINCIPLE     OF      REACTION      ILLUSTRATED 

STOCK   OPERATIONS   BY   THE  RULE  OF   THREE 

THE    FAILURE    OF    A    LARGE    BANKING   HOUSE 

FINANCIAL    AERONAUTICS  —  COMMODORE    VAN- 
DERBILT  AND  CENTRAL A  SUCCESSFUL  OPIATE. 

SARATOGA,  July  27. 

|HO   will   step    aboard  of  your  balloon 
now,    Mr.    Paul  ? "  asked  my  financial 
friend,  when   news  came  that  a  great 
firm  had  failed. 

With  fine  irony,  Isaac  persists  in  calling  the 
present  system  of  inflation  my  balloon.  And 
this  is  the  way  he  always  approaches  the  subject 
when  he  wants  to  get  at  my  financial  views. 

We  were  out  on  the  race-course,  and  I  was 
feeling  badly.  It  was  not  that  I  had  drawn 
Olitipa  in-  a  hat  pool ;  it  was  not  that  I  had  laid 
money  on  Leander  when  I  should  have  chosen 
the  Countess ;  it  was  not  that  in  the  steeple- 


My  Vacation.  97 

chase  I  took  Trouble  and  had  only  that  and  a 
pool-ticket-  for  my  pains  ;  it  was  none  of  these 
aggravations  that  weighed  upon  me.  But  my 
spirit  was  oppressed  by  the  thought  that  possi- 
bly I  had  given  my  financial  views  in  a  late  let- 
er  from  Long  Branch — very  late  indeed  in  get- 
ing  into  print  —  prematurely  to  the  public  ; 
that  I  perhaps,  had  precipitated  a  panic,  involved 
"  the  street" — possibly  some  of  the  sidewalks,  as 
well  —  shattered  credits,  destroyed  confidence, 
moved  banks  to  call  in  their  loans,  upset  the 
balance  of  trade,  interfered  with  the  iron  indus- 
try, done  a  good  many  other  of  the  things  which 
a  man  is  apt  to  do  if  he  doesn't  shut  his  teeth 
together  and  carefully  refrain  from  telling  the 
truth.  Sooner  than  have  brought  calamity  upon 
the  community  in  that  way  I'd  have  stayed  at 
Long  Branch,  playing  croquet  on  the  sand — 
with  hearts  for  balls  and  fans  and  clouded  bam- 
boo canes  for  mallets — even  until  now.  ' 

Sometimes  I  think  I  will  never  write  about 
finance  again.     As  for  theology  that  is  not  for 
me  in  the  future.     It  is  quite  enough  to  be  bowl- 
ing down  long  established  houses   in  this  way, 
7 


98  My  Vacation. 

without  bringing  the  established  churches  about 
one's  ears  in  a  rain  of  brick  and  mortar.  Those 
who  can't  write  without  setting  folks  to  thinking, 
and  producing  social  and  business  convulsions, 
had  better  either  not  write  at  all,  or  else  write 
for  The  North  American  Review,  where  they 
can  do  no  harm. 

Well,  Mr.  Sherman  turned  to  me — we  were 
sitting  in  the  Grand  Stand — and  wanted  to 
know  who  would  step  aboard  my  balloon  now. 

"  Everybody,"  I  replied,  "  if  only  one  fool  can 
be  found  to  lead." 

A  drop  of  nine  per  cent  in  an  eight  per  cent 
dividend-paying  stock  is  a  tempting  thing. 
People  are  prone  to  "  buy  for  a  reaction. " 
Sometimes  they  get  it.  A  friend  of  mine  bought 
Wabash  at  thirty  and  it  reacted  on  him  so 
severely  that  within  the  month  he  went  into  an- 
other branch  of  business  entirely — clamming. 
He  was  always  fond  of  fishing,  he  says,  and  he 
finds  health  as  well  as  a  livelihood  in  his  present 
employment.  As  compared  with  the  trout 
the  clam  cannot  perhaps  be  called  a  game  fish, 
but  then  he  doesn't  react.  In  this  respect  he  is 


My  Vacation.  99 

unlike  my  No.  10  Scott  gun.  That  does.  With 
only  five  drams  of  powder  aboard,  and  not  much 
room  to  stretch  out  in,  it  reacted  on  me  the  other 
clay  to  such  an  extent  that  I  went  over  and  laid 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  lot,  and  it  kept  on 
reacting  for  five  minutes  or  so — kicked  me  twice 
while  I  lay  on  the  ground  and  a  third  time 
as  I  was  getting  up.  There's  a  good  deal  of  dic- 
ing and  ornamental  work  about  the  stock  of 
that  gun,  and  a  prettier  piece  of  English  wal- 
nut never  you  saw,  but  I  don't  put  that  fancy 
stock  to  my  shoulder  again  in  a  hurry.  And  I 
don't  get  behind  any  fancy  stock  in  the  future  if 
I  can  help  it.  Lady  Clipper  and  Warlock  re- 
acted on  their  riders  to-day.  Warlock's  jockey 
didn't  get  up  as  soon  as  the  horse  did.  I'm  not 
riding  Warlocks  now-a-days  so  much  as  I  once 
was.  One  must  have  long  legs  when  he  straddles 
lightning,  and  then  I  don't  know  that  he  has  an 
easy  thing  of  it. 

A  friend  of  mine  well  known  for  his  philan- 
thropy as  well  as  for  the  breadth — I  might  say 
the  exceeding  latitude — of  his  financial  views  (do 
1  violate  any  confidence  in  saying  right  out  that 


ioo  My  Vacation. 

his  name  is  Briggs — Chas.F. — ?)  has  one  formula 
by  which  he  figures  up  in  a  moment  the  worth  of 
any  stock  on  the  market.  Thus  :  "  If  a  New 
York  Central  Railway  First  Mortgage  bond, 
which  only  pays  seven  per  cent,  per  annum,  semi- 
annually,  is  worth  one  hundred  and  sixteen,  what 
is  a  canal  or  telegraph  stock  worth  that  pays  two 
per  cent,  quarterly  ?  Easy  enough  to  get  at  it." 
And  out  comes  a  proof-sheet  of  an  article  in  a 
religious  Journal  for  figuring  paper,  and  a  pencil. 

"  A  simple  problem  in  the  Rule  of  Three.  As 
7  is  to  8,  so  is  116  to  the  answer.  Here  you 
have  it — 7  :  8  : :  1 16=  132$.  Any  stock  that  pays 
two  per  cent,  quarterly  is  worth  132$,  gentlemen." 

I  remember  we  once  operated  in  South  Car- 
olina Januarys  and  Julys  together,  Briggs 
and  I.  Briggs  did  the  figuring  and  I  did  the 
buying.  They  carried  on  their  face  six  per  cent, 
in  gold,  and  sold  at  62^.  Briggs's  famous 
equation  was  this :  "  If  New  York  Central  stock 
which  only  pays  8  per  cent,  is  worth  par,  what 
ought  South  Carolina  Januarys  and  Julys  that 
pay  six  per  cent,  in  gold  to  sell  for  ?  "  The  gold 
rate  fluctuated  so  frequently  that  it  was  difficult 


My  Vacation.  101 

to  make  an  exact  calculation,  but  where  figures 
fail  Briggs  has  a  wonderful  genius  for  guessing. 
And  he  guessed  they  were  worth  85.  John  Swin- 
ton  guessed  they  were,  too,  and  bought  a  hat-full. 
Then  we  went  over  to  Adams'  Express — so  called 
because  of  its  irregular  leaves,  I  fancy, — and  told 
Gen.  Sandford  we  guessed  he  had  better  buy 
some.  But  he  guessed  not.  I  thought  he  was 
mistaken  then,  but  it  has  since  occurred  to  me  that 
possibly  we  had  the  wrong  of  it.  However,  do 
not  let  anything  I  may  have  said  lead  you  to  be- 
lieve that  my  friend  Briggs  has  not  a  great  finan- 
cial head.  Daboll  was  a  fool  to  him,  so  far  as 
figures  are  concerned  ;  and  when  it  comes  to  The 
Wealth  of  Stagnations,  or  The  Origin  of  Specie, 
the  little  treatises  of  Adam  Smith  and  Darwin  are 
literally  nowhere. 

As  I  was  going  to  say,  Mr.  Sherman  only 
asked  me  who  was  going  to  get  aboard  of  my  bal- 
loon, as  the  simplest  way  of  getting  at  my  finan- 
cial views. 

"  Everybody  will  get  aboard  of  it,"  I  replied  ; 
"everybody,  not  excepting  Russell  Sage."  None 
of  them  want  to  go  up  in  a  balloon  exactly ;  it 


102  My  Vacation. 

isn't  a  through  trip  that  they  contemplate — only 
a  little  turn.  Each  man  intends  to  get  out  before 
his  neighbor  ;  none  goes  in  to  stay.  The  banker 
on  this  side  of  the  way  expects  to  step  safely  out, 
and,  himself  standing  on  the  ground,  see  the 
banker  across  the  street,  who  is  not  quite  so 
smart,  and  will  leave  a  moment  later,  floating 
about  high  in  air.  That  the  balloon  may  burst 
before  anybody  steps  down  and  out,  or  get  away 
with  them  all  before  the  most  timid  sees  that  the 
ropes  are  frayed,  is  a  contingency  which  suggests 
itself  to  none.  "  It's  only  for  a  turn,  boys  ;  the 
gas  is  all  right  and  with  a  '  put '  for  a  parachute 
the  fall  will  be  easy  to  you  at  the  worst — step 
aboard." 

"  What  do  you  really  think  of  this  failure  of 
Duncan,  Sherman  &  Co.?"  demanded  my  friend 
petulantly.  "  These  glittering  generalities  are  all 
very  well,  but  please  bring  your  great  intellect 
down  to  the  contemplation  of  details  for  a  mo- 
ment." 

"  Since  you  wish  my  honest  opinion,  I  reply 
that  the  failure  of  this  one  house  is  a  trifle  in  it- 
self considered — a  thread  of  very  little  importance 


My  Vacation.  103 

when  separated  from  the  complex  web  of  the  pres- 
ent and  the  future  wherewith  it  is  inextricably  in- 
terwoven. True,  as  Briggs  says,  the  failure  of 
Duncan,  Sherman  &  Co.  will  not  reduce  the  ear- 
nings of  the  New- York  Central  Railroad  or  the 
Western  Union  Telegraph  in  any  appreciable 
degree  ;  it  does  not  in  reality  make  the  stock  of 
either  of  those  great  corporations  one  dollar  the 
less  valuable.  But  that  house  was  one  of  the  great 
depositories  of  the  surplus  money  of  the  public. 
Notwithstanding  the  immense  crop  of  prophets 
after  the  event,  which  has  so  suddenly  sprang 
into  luxuriant  life,  that  house  stood  a  synonym 
for  safety.  I  have  never  kept  any  money  there 
myself,  but  I  have  always  thought  that  if  ever  I 
had  any  to  keep,  to  that  house  I  would  go  with 
it.  Now  if  it  suddenly  appears  that  a  house 
which  so  long  stood  a  seeming  tower  of  strength, 
a  commercial  pillar  on  which  it  was  safe  to  lean* 
if  it  suddenly  appears,  I  say,  that  this  tower,  this 
pillar,  has  been  honey-combed  for  years,  dry-rot- 
ted at  the  base,  what  are  we  to  think  of  houses 
of  less  character  and  prominence,  of  houses 
which  there  is  more  reason  to  regard  as  shaky  ? 


104  My  Vacation. 

Where  are  we  to  put  our  surplus  money  ?  In 
whom  are  we  to  trust — I  say  we,  but  I  mean 
they ;  they  who  have  treasures  of  earth,  vile  dross, 
filthy  lucre,  spondulix,  National  currency,  the 
ready  ?  Suppose  all  these  fortunate  ones  sud- 
denly make  up  their  mind  that  a  man's  money 
is  nowhere  so  safe  as  in  his  own  keeping,  and 
ask  for  it  at  about  the  same  time  ?  The  little 
stream  that  occasionally  trickles  through  the  walls 
of  a  reservoir  is  of  little  consequence  in  itself  ; 
it  becomes  serious  only  when  viewed  as  an  ex- 
ponent of  the  mighty,  but  silent  and  secret  force- 
at  work  behind.  As  the  forerunner  of  an  army 
of  waters,  the  herald  of  a  break  in  the  dam,  it 
has  a  terrible  meaning  !  At  this  time,  when  a 
vast  amount  of  capital  is  lying  idle  because  of  the 
general  unwillingness  to  invest,  an  unwillingness 
consequent  upon  a  want  of  confidence  in  existing 
values,  a  failure'of  this  kind  has  rather  a  serious 
significance.  If  to  the  distrust  of  investments 
you  add  a  distrust  of  depositories,  men  may  feel 
like  putting  their  money  into  a  dry  goods  box 
and  sitting  down  on  it — then  you  have  a  panic." 
"  You  have  alluded  to  New- York  Central  sev- 


My  Vacation.  105 

eral  times,  Mr.  Paul.     Do  you  not  consider  that 
a  safe  security  at  present  prices,  Sir  ?  " 

"When  you  put  this  question  to  me  point 
blank,  Mr,  Sherman,  my  position  becomes  an 
embarrassing  one.  You  know  the  close  terms  of 
confidential  relationship  which  have  existed  be- 
tween Commodore  Vanderbilt  and  myself,  ever 
since  he  declared  his  famous  scrip  dividend  of 
eighty  per  cent.  As  he  did  not  inform  me  that 
he  contemplated  such  a  movement,  I  incautiously 
permitted  myself  to  be  caught  short  of  the  stock  • 
as  you  can  readily  imagine  a  sort  of  feeling  then, 
sprang  up  between  us,  a  feeling  of  love  on  one 
side  and  respectful  admiration  on  the  other 
which  continues  to  this  day.  When  you  further 
know  that  after  killing  several  respectable  relative 
of  mine  above  Forty-second-st.  before  the  present 
Fourth-ave.  improvements  were  completed,  he 
refused  to  extend  a  side  track  out  upon  Thirty- 
ninth-st.  where  an  aunt  resided  whom  I  could 
well  spare,  you  will  understand  in  some  degree 
the  obligations  I  am  under  to  him.  Nevertheless, 
common  sense,  justice,  a  sense  of  my  own  posi- 
tion, a  consciousness  of  what  I  owe  to  the  world, 


io6  My  Vacation. 

all  compel  me  to  ask  of  you,  calmly  and  dispas- 
sionately, if  New- York  Central  be  worth  the 
price  it  has  been  selling  at  for  some  time  past, 
why  in  thunder  and  the  name  of  a  most  uncorr 
scionable  Congress  does  it  drop  several  per  cent 
on  the  mere  rumor  of  Commodore  Vanderbilt's 
illness  ?  If  it  drop  on  the  rumor  of  his  death,  a 
rumor  so  oft  repeated  that  the  thing  has  become 
monotonous,  a  rumor  which  no  one  ever  believes 
— how  much  will  it  drop  when  he  really  does  die  ? 
And  that  he  will  not,  cannot,  live  forever  is  rea- 
sonably certain,  I  think.  Listen  to  logic.  All 
men  must  some  day  die  ;  the  Commodore  is  but 
a  man — therefore  some  day  the  Commodore  must 
die  !  I  hope  I  have  proved  this  fact  by  a  syllo- 
gism too  clear  and  direct  to  admit  of  contradic- 
tion— for  if  it  can  be  contradicted,  his  satellites 
will  be  round  me  in  a  minute.  'Tis  a  general 
impression,  evidently,  that  when  the  Commodore 
dies  Central  stock  will  drop  from  ten  to  twenty 
per  cent.  Now  that  death-day  cannot  be  very 
far  distant.  He  is  in  his  eighty-second  year,  and 
more  signs  of  failing  are  evident  upon  him  this 
Summer  than  ever  before.  Seldom  if  ever  does 


My  Vacation.  107 

he  go  out  to  the  races  ;  he  falls  gently  to  sleep 
in  the  afternoon  with  a  good  book  either  in  his 
hand  or  by  his  side  ;  he  has  reduced  the  play  .in 
point-euchre  from  five  dollars  to  one ;  he  does 
not  disembowel  his  antagonists  so  completely  as 
formerly.  In  brief,  he  shows  signs  of  failure, 
mentally  as  well  as  physically.  His  nearest 
friends  watch  his  health  like  hawks  ;  no  one  in- 
tends to  have  much  Central  stock  on  hand  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  but  in  the  meantime  pretty 
much  all  are  willing  to  trade  in  it.  They  take  the 
chances  of  an  old  man's  life.  Butafeeble  pulse, 
a  fluttering  breath,  only,  stand  between  many  an 
operator  and  beggary  ;  yet  they  court  the  chance. 
To  me  it  looks  like  skating  on  thin  ice  ;  but — 
each  to  his  own  fancy.  Now  if  New  York  Cen- 
tral stock  be  really  worth  its  present  price,  tell  me 
will  you,  why  the  Commodore's  death  should  de- 
press it  at  all  ?  Certainly  the  taking  off  of  al- 
most any  other  railroad  president  you  can  name 
would  be  a  signal  benefit  to  the  road  he  repre- 
sents. Do  men  of  means,  men  of  influence,  men 
of  brains,  men  like  myself,  in  fact,  propose  to 
wrap  the  drapery  of  a  stock  around  them  and  lie 


io8  My  Vacation. 

down  to  dream  upon  it  when  its  value  depends 
so  much  on  an  old  man's  health,  to  say  nothing 
of  his  life.  If  the  stock  had  not  been  watered 
to  a  most  unprecedented  degree,  if  it,  like  almost 
every  other  security  dealt  in  at  the  Stock  Ex- 
change, were  not  inflated,  ballooned  to  bursting, 
would  it  echo  every  pulse-beat  of  its  President  ? 
sink  because  he  has  a  dysentery  ?  rise  with 
his  recovery  ?  I  only  ask  these  questions,  un- 
derstand ;  I  assert  nothing.  But  it  does  seem 
to  me  that  only  a  terribly  watered  stock  could  be 
so  wildly  upheaved  by  a  pain  or  pimple.  If  it 
cannot  stand  to-day  on  the  merits  of  the  road,  if 
the  direction  be  incompetent,  and  all  hinges  upon 
one  man,  be  that  man  young  or  old,  I  want  none 
of  it.  So  with  religion  when  it  was  claimed 
that  its  very  life  hung  trembling  in  the  balance  of 
Mr.  Beecher's  innocence  or  guilt.  If  there  were 
nothing  of  religion  more  than  that,  better  far, 
it  seemed  to  me,  that  the  feeble  light  should 
flicker  out  at  once.  But  the  contrary  was  true 
and  more  than  this,  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Sherman — " 
A  deep  breathing  broke  on  my  ear.  I  turned 
round  to  see  who  had  a  fit.  There  sat  my  friend  ; 


My  Vacation.  109 

a  programme  of  the  race  in  his  hand  and  a 
peaceful  smile  upon  his  face,  fast  asleep,  with 
his  head  upon  Mr.  Stranahan's  shoulder — who 
was  also  asleep. 

"  How  long  have  these  gentlemen  been  thus 
comatose  ;  "  I  asked  of  a  bystander. 

"  Ever  since  you've  been  blowing,"  he  whis- 
pered ;  "don't  stop  now,  or  you'll  wake  'em." 

But  these  are  my  views  of  the  situation,  and 
if  the  reader  sleeps  over  them  he  may  wake  to  a 
sad  realization  of  the  truth.  I  am  sorry  I  was 
born  this  way,  knowing  nothing  about  anything 
but  theology  and  finance,  but  I  can't  help  it. 
Some  pork  will  boil  so. 


THE  SPELL  OF  LAKE  SARATOGA. 

AN  EXCURSION  WITH -GOVERNORS  AND  ORTHOGRA- 
PHY   THROWN    IN KAYADEROSSERAS A    LADY. 

AT  THE  SCALES FINANCE. 

SARATOGA,  July  29. 

EVER  before  have  I  been  among  so 
many  Governors  as  yesterday.  In  the 
first  place,  Saratoga  is  full  qf  Governors 
just  now — I  didn't  suppose  there  were  so  many 
Governors  in  the  world  :  Gov.  Curtin,  Gov.  Hen- 
dricks,  Gov.  Anthony,  Gov.  Tilden,  Gov.  Hoff- 
man, Gov.  Aiken — of  South  Carolina,  whose 
memorable  remark  to  the  Governor  of  North 
Carolina,*  that  it  was  rather  a  long  while  between 
drinks,  has  passed  into  history — and  he  of  Mass- 
achusetts, who  is  to  be  Gov.  Rice,  then  we  have 
Gover — but  why  twist  these  columns  into  a  long 
string  of  Governors  merely  ?  Suffice  it  to  say  that 
more  Governors  are  here  than  you  can  shake  a 
stick  at.  The  occasion  which  brought  me  into 


My  Vacation.  in 

immediate  contact  with  them  was  an  excursion 
up  the  Kayaderosseras  (a  name  with  which  you 
become  quite  familiar  after  spelling  and  pro- 
nouncing it  a  few  dozen  times)  in  Mr.  Frank 
Leslie's  steam-yacht.  We  had  the  whole  string 
of  Governors  along,  except  Gov.  Hoffman,  Gov. 
Tilclen,  Gov.  Hendricks  (none  of  whom  care 
much  for  the  Kayaderosseras,  but  wouldn't  ob- 
ject to  being  President),  and  Gov.  Aiken  of  South 
Carolina,  who  preferred  to  remain  and  exchange 
suggestions  with  the  Governor  of  North  Carolina. 
As  well  as  the  Governors  mentioned,  we  had  a 
lot  of  judges,  editors,  and  ladies  with  us.  Among 
the  latter  I  may  mention — as  prominent  among 
them  from  first  to  last — Judge  Davies  of  New- 
York,  Judge  Dan  Dougherty — the  Coming  Cen- 
tennial orator  of  Philadelphia,  and  Editor  Bowles 
of  Springfield. 

The  Kayaderosseras  is  a  small  stream,  empty- 
ing into  Saratoga  Lake  just  above  Mr.  Leslie's 
grounds.  The  banks  of  the  Kayaderosseras  are 
green  with  summer  grasses,  and  fringed  with  wil- 
lows and  other  trees  of  beauteous  plumage.  But 
the  chief  beauties  of  the  Kayaderosseras  are  the 


ii2  My  Vacation. 

shadows,  the  wonderful  reflections  of  cloud,  sky 
and  bank,  green  grass  and  waving  willow  in  the 
depths  below.  Fairy  land  is  before  you,  naiads 
are  round  about;  the  enchantment  is  perfect. 
Have  we  all  been  translated,  ferried  beyond  the 
dark  flood  in  this  trim  little  yacht,  a  disguised 
Charon  in  the  engine-room,  and  Gpv.  Rice  at  the 
wheel  ?  Are  we  among  the  happy  drowned  ?  Lo, 
here  is  a  world  beneath  the  waters  ;  a  world  more 
beautiful  by  far  than  the  world  above.  For  the 
lights  are  softer,  the  shadows  darker  ;  all  blots 
and  imperfections  of  the  landscape  are  absorbed 
by  the  mirror ;  only  its  beauties  thrown  back  to 
you.  You  long  to  be  a  fish ;  a  red  mullet,  may 
be  ;  or,  peradventure,  a  purple  perch,  that  so  you 
might  browse  upon  the  grasses,  glide  in  and  out 
among  the  submerged  groves,  climb  into  the  tops 
of  the  trees  to  roost,  perchance  to  dream.  Un~ 
til  now  I  had  never  heard  of  the  Kayerdos — Kay- 
deros — Kerdayro — Kaserdos — 

Bless  my  soul,  I've  got  lost !  Let's  take  a  fresh 
breath  and  begin  again.  Steady  as  you  go,  boy. 

Never  until  now  had  I  heard  of  the  K-a-y, 
Kay,  a,  Kaya,  d-e-r^  der,  Kayader,  o-s,  os,  Kay- 


My  Vacation.  113 

aderos  ,  s-e,  se  Kayaderosse,  r-a-s,  ras,  Kayader- 
osseras.  There  you  have  it,  straight  as  a  string, 
or  a  mackerel,  or  the  whisky  that  Governors 
drink — and  they  wouldn't  drink  crooked  whiskey, 
of  course.  So  enraptured  was  I  with  the  beau- 
ties of  the  stream  that  I  contemplated  a  poem  in 
its  honor,  and  indeed  began  one.  But  alas  !  to 
Kayaclerosseras  no  rhyme  but  Rhinerosseras  sug- 
gesteditself,  and  there  are  —  or  should  be  — 
bounds  to  poetic  license  when  the  liberty  of  Mrs. 
King's  English  is  at  stake. 

Surely,  had  the  Lady  of  Shalott  only  had  the 
Kayaderosseras  for  her  magic  mirror,  never  would 
she  have  complained  that  she  was  "  half  sick  of 
shadows."  Contentedly  she  would  have  sat, 
throwing  the  shuttle  and  singing  her  song,  leav- 
ing "  towered  Camelot"  all  unheeded.  Of  the 
sad  Lady  of  Shalott  I  thought  as  we  floated  along 
the  river.  To  the  bank  I  looked,  if  haply  I  might 
catch  the  glitter  of  the  blazoned  baldric,— the  echo 
of  the  silver  bugle,  the  rapid  rataplan  of  the  bur- 
nished hoofs  whereon  the  war-horse  trode,  of 

bold  Sir  Lancelot.     Even  as  I  gazed 
8 


ii4  My  Vacation. 

From  the  bank  and  from  the  river, 
He  flashed  into  the  crystal  mirror; 
Tirra  lirra,  by  the  river, 
Sang  Sir  Lancelot. 

Never  before  was  seen  so  nice  a  knight  of  a 
Summer  afternoon.  But  alas !  all  that's  bright 
must  fade !  Another  little  steamer  dashed  into 
the  little  stream — 

Out  flew  the  web  and  floated  wide 
The  mirror  cracked  from  side  to  side. 

Vanished  was  the  enchantmen  !  gone  were  the 
shadows.  (From  the  statement  that  the  Web  flew 
out  and  floated  wide,  however,  do  not  conclude 
that  I  jumped  overboard.)  Patience  is  a  virtue 
which  comes  with  age.  The  shattering  of  any 
illusion  is  simply  a  disarrangement  of  surfaces, 
which  time  very  soon  sets  right  again  if  we  only 
trust  to  his  kindly  offices.  The  steamer  puffed 
herself  away  in  a  "jiffy,"  the  circling  ripples  of 
her  wake  sank  one  by  one  from  sight,  and  almost 
before  we  had  learned  that  our  world  below  the 
waters  was  all  unreal,  a  cheat,  phantasmagoria, 
we  had  it  around  us  again  more  beautiful  than 
ever.  The  reinstated  shadows  bowed  to  us  and 


My  Vacation.  115 

we  to  them,  and  the  old-time  terms  were  renewed  ; 
again  I  took  a  shadow  to  my  bosom,  and  the 
shadow  embraced  me  back,  each  thinking — or 
making  believe  to  think — the  other  real. 

Kayaderosseras — that's  a  corker  for  thee, 
good  printer.  I  will  not  revile,  even  though 
thou  mak'st  me  spell  it  a  half  dozen  ways  in  as 
many  lines  ! 

The  beauty  of  Saratoga  Lake  is  indeed  ex- 
ceeding. And  if  the  fashion  of  villas  upon  its 
banks,  which  Mr.  Leslie  is  spending  considera- 
ble money  in  setting,  ever  become  at  all  popular, 
Saratoga  life  will  have  a.  new  meaning.  The 
thing  now  needed  is  a  narrow-gauge  railroad — 
one  could  be  built  and  equipped  for  $12,000  or 
$15,000  a  mile,  and  the  distance  is  only  three  or 
four  miles.  Then  you  may  depend  upon  it  that 
the  tcfur  of  travel  will  be  turned  hither  from  Swit- 
zerland— if  only  tourists  can  in  a  reasonable  time 
learn  to  spell  and  pronounce  Kayaderosseras. 

If  a  railroad  ever  be  built  I  hope  the  builders 
will  pattern  after  the  elevator  at  the  south  end 
of  the  Grand  Union,  rather  than  after  the  one 
at  the  north.  The  former  is  an  express  train, 


n6  My  Vacation. 

the  latter  an  accommodation.  Married  couples, 
old  maids,  and  old  bachelors  take  the  express. 
It  elevates  them  without  loss  of  time.  From 
supper  you  get  to  sleep  in  something  less  than  a 
minute.  But  the  accommodation  tarries  for 
wood  and  water  at  all  stations  ;  it  makes  a  long 
story  of  every  story  it  stops  at  on  the  way  up. 
There  is  ample  time  for  the  young  man  to  tell 
the  young  woman  why  she  ought  to  marry  him, 
and  for  the  young  woman  to  explain  the  many 
reasons  why  she  won't,  long  before  the  end  of  the 
journey  is  reached.  A  hand  can  be  squeezed 
all  out  of  shape  between  each  landing — unless 
it's  twice  as  big  as  mine.  About  the  express 
there's  no  such  accommodation.  Again,  they've 
got  a  sort  of  a  deaf  non-conductor  on  the  slow 
elevator.  Now,  if  they'd  only  select  one  who 
is  blind  as  well,  then,  ah  then,  indeed,  if  con- 
tentment there  be  in  the  world,  the  heart 
that  is  humble  (and  contrite)  might  look  for  it 
here. 

But  it  is  dreadful  to  go  up  with  a  young  lady 
on  the  accommodation  and  find  papa,  who  started 
by  the  express  at  the  same  time,  waiting  at  the 


My  Vacation.  117 

landing,  ready  to  shut  down  on  you  like  a  cellar 
door  on  a  boy's  thumb.  Talk  of  a  mother-in- 
law's  being  unpleasant  to  encounter — it  is  the 
father  in  fact  who  to  me  is  the  more  terrible 
than  an  army  with  banners. 

But  there  are  many  beautiful  drives  to  and 
around  the  lake.  One  of  them  is  strangely 
like  life.  For  it  has  ups  and  downs,  now  green 
glades  and  again  but  barren  reaches.  Here 
you  bowl  along  right  merrily  ;  there  you  drag 
in  sand  and  your  wheels  revolve  slowly,  wearily; 
worry  and  enjoyment  alternate  all  through,  and  a 
sulphur  bath  awaits  you  at  the  end. 

As  for  bathing  in  the  lake,  that  can  be 
had  if  you  want  it.  Not  exactly  such  bathing 
as  at  Long  Branch,  perhaps,  but  if  for  that  you 
long,  art  can  supply  a  counterfeit.  For  a  sum 
comparatively  small  it  were  possible  to  hire  a 
laborer  to  shovel  sand  into  your  eyes  and  ears,  I 
imagine,  and  as  for  salt  water,  you  might  pour 
that  down  your  own  throat  by  the  aid  of  a  funnel 
without  much  outside  help,  if  any. 

The  poetry  of  the  lake  is  hardly  complete 
without  a  beautiful  Indian  girl,  bright  Alvaretta 


n8  My  Vacation. 

or  somebody  else,  in  a  birch-bark  canoe.  But 
Sarah,  the  old  time  belle  of  the  Encampment, 
the  only  aboriginal  woman  who  could  fitly  fill 
the  bill  is  married.  She  is  fat,  too.  The  form  once 
fairy  would  now  fit  the  canoe  too  well  and  she 
couldn't  paddle  so  well  as  she  could  waddle. 
Why  do  beautiful  girls,  Indian-bred  or  Rye,  mar- 
ry and  get  fat  ?  Anacreon's  self  couldn't  write 
a  woman  up  if  she  insisted  on  so  pulling  the 
scale  down.  Only  two  short  Summers  ago  I 
wrote  a  lyric  to  this  same  Sarah.  it  began : 

She  is  young, 

She  is  fair, 

With  a  rose  on  her  lips, 

And  a  rose  in  her  hair.  . 

How  are  the  lines  to  be  modified  to  conform 
to  present  conditions  ?  Were  she  a  widow 
'twould  be  easy  enough  to  say  : 

She  is  young, 

She  is  fat, 

With  a  weed  in  her  mouth, 

And  a  weed  in  her  hat 

But  she's  not  a  widow — ay  di  mi  Alhama 
Sometimes  I  say  in  my  haste  that  I  will  write 


My  Vacation.  119 

verses  no  more,  but  just  confine  myself  to  maga- 
zine articles,  editorials,  and  such  stuff. 

Apropos  of  avoirdupois,  yesterday  a  friend 
and  myself  guessed  on  the  weight  of  a  lady  who 
said  she  had  that  morning  been  weighed.  My 
friend  guessed  within  a  pound  ;  I  hit  the  exact 
weight  to  an  ounce.  He  declared  that  I  had 
seen  the  lady  weighed,  and  would  not  be  persua- 
ded 'to  the  contrary  though  I  gave  my  word. 
Now,  to  tell  the  truth  about  it  and  explain  the 
accuracy  of  my  guess,  let  me  confess  ;  I  did  see 
her  wade — at  Long  Branch  ! 

The  idea  of  appealing  to  me  regarding  a  lady's 
weight — though  indeed,  I  ought  to  know  some- 
thing about  it,  having  been  made-to  wait  by  and 
for  them,  long  and  often.  But  if  one  knows 
something  about  anything,  it  is  taken  for  granted 
that  he  knows  something  about  everything. 
Because  I'm  well  up  on  Finance  it  by  no  means 
follows  that  I'm  aufait  in  French.  However, 
over  on  "an  opposite  corner  is  displayed  a  sign, 
"  Moschowitz" — name  of  fearful  sound  and  dread- 
ful meaning,  to  husbands — "  Dealer  in  Robes 
and  Confections.  Why  does  every  one  come  to 


I2O  My  Vacation. 

me,  to  find  out  what  is  meant  by  "  confections  ?  " 
I  should  say  at  a  rough  guess  that  it  must  stand 
for  some  sweet  thing  in  bonnets,  but  I'm  not  a 
walking  Spiers  and  Surenne  for  all  that.  Confec- 
tions in  this  instance  is  not  sweetmeats,  sure. 
The  French  spell  the  like  of  that,  confitures.  It 
is  absurd  of  them  to  do  it  that  way,  I  know,  but 
what  would  you  expect  of  a  nation  that  spells 
hat  c-h-a-p-e-a-u  ?  They  have  no  spelling-schools 
in  France,  more's  the  pity.  And  I'm  afraid  that 
a  good  many  of  them  would  have  to  sit  down  on 
Kayaderosseras. 

It  seems  to  me  there's  a  change  come  over 
the  lake  in  one  respect — fewer  persons  are  seen 
at  Moon's  and  Myer's.  Where  they  go  to  is  a 
mystery  to  me.  There's  quite  as  much  "  hitching 
up"  as  ever,  carriages  begin  to  trundle  away 
from  the  hotels  at  about  four  in  the  afternoon, 
dog-carts  roJJ  off  on  yellow  and  red  wheels  as 
usual,  but  drive  out  and  you  do  not  find  the  occu- 
pants at  Moon's.  Follow  on  and  you  don't  even 
find  them  at  Myer's.  You  can't  find  them  any- 
where. Not  as  of  old  do  they  sit  on  the  piazzas 
and  swallow,  as  formerly,  fried  potatoes  in  a 


My  Vacation.  121 

gorgeous  sort  of  way.  Not  as  of  yore  do  you  see 
two  souls  with  only  a  single  straw  and  a  sherry 
cobbler  between  them,  looking  out  upon  the 
lake,  what  time  they  gaze  not  one  into  the  other's 
eyes.  Sometimes  I  fancy  that  here  we  have  the 
beginning  of  that  contraction  which  Mr.  Isaac 
Sherman  talks  about ;  that  those  who  go  to 
drive  take  their  own  lunches  with  them,  and 
sit  on  stumps  by  the  road-side,  eating  cold 
boiled  potatoes  and  cheese,  moistening  their 
palates  perhaps  with  lager  to  the  manor  borne. 

Where  this  contraction  is  to  end  puzzles  me. 
Ever  since  Mr.  Sherman  began  preaching  con- 
traction to  me,  ever  since  I  met  him  at  Long 
Branch,  in  fact,  I've  been  contracting  all  that 
I  possibly  could.  I've  contracted  debts  on  all 
sides,  to  say  nothing  of  the  contraction  of  more 
bad  habits  than  you  could  stack  up  in  a  ten-acre 
lot ;  but  I'm  no  nearer  specie  payments  or  perfect 
bliss  than  ten  years  ago — not  so  near,  if  anything. 
Impressed  with  the  worthlessness  and  immorality 
of  "  rag  money,"  I've  got  rid  of  it  as  fast  as 
possible  ;  have  even  assisted  my  financial  friend 
in  getting  rid  of  some  of  his,  putting  it  upon 


122  My  Vacation. 

French  pools  in  the  name  of  Jonathan  Edwards, 
for  instance.  I've  bought  neither  stocks  nor 
real  estate,  for  Sherman  has  so  shaken  my  confi- 
dence in  values  that  I  do  not  intend  to  throw 
money  away  on  perishable  property  when  split 
bamboo  fly-rods  can  be  had  for  forty-five  dollars 
apiece.  Still,  stocks  keep  going  up,  and  I  can- 
not yet  afford  to  go  fishing. 

Last  Sunday  instead  of  going  to  church  I 
foolishly  went  over  to  the  United  States  and 
heard  a  lot  of  big  bondholders — the  Hon.  Chester 
Chapin,  the  Hon.  Richard  Lathers,  and  my 
Gamaliel,  Isaac  Sherman — discuss  finance.  They 
proved  plainly  that  the  poor  are  the  creditor 
class,  the  rich  the  debtor  class,  contrary  to  the 
common  idea  about  it.  But  at  the  end  of  the 
conversation  I  couldn't  ascertain  that  any  one  of 
the  three  capitalists  who  took  part  in  it  owed 
me  anything.  An  indebtedness  existed  by  their 
own  proving,  but  the  only  one  who  put  his  hand, 
into  his  waistcoat  pocket  was  the  Hon.  Mr. 
Lathers,  and  that  was  to  take  out  Adam  Smith 
on  Political  Economy.  President  Chapin  didn't 
even  by  way  of  squaring  accounts  offer  me 


My  Vacation.  123 

a  pass  over  his  railroad.  I'd  have  called  it 
even  at  that ;  every  one  else  perhaps  would 
have  called  it  odd.  Sometimes  I  think  I'll 
abandon  finance  altogether  and  devote  myself  to 
French. 


THE  SELFISH  SARATOGIAN. 

WHAT  CONSTITUTES  A  BORE — THE  MAN  WHO 
WANTS  TO  SLING  HIS  SCIATICA  AT  YOU  WHEN 
YOU  WANT  TO  TALK  ABOUT  YOUR  RHEUMA- 
TISM— AT  CROSS  PURPOSES  WITH  A  YOUNG 
LADY. 

SARATOGA,  Aug.  i. 

£OME  one  defines  a  bore  as  The  man 
who  talks  about  himself  when  you  want 
to  talk  about  yourself ! 
Saratoga  is  full  of  these  wretches,  this  season. 
I  came  here  prostrated  by  overwork,  suffering 
from  inflammatory  rheumatism,  tortured  by  inop- 
portune neuralgias,  unable  to  eat,  drink  or 
sleep,  and  quite  sure  that  I  had  some  chronic 
affection  of  the  heart,  to  say  nothing  of  minor  do- 
mestic afflictions  which  frequently  caused  me  to 
turn  wistful  eyes  towards  that  burn  from  which 
it  is  said  that  "  no  traveller  returns."  Among 


My  Vacation.  125 

the  many  friends  here  sojourning  it  seemed  that 
I  must  find  sympathy ;  my  livid  imagination 
pictured  the  long  piazzas  as  lined  with  rows  of 
yearning  acquaintances  sitting  backward  tipped 
in  their  chairs  but  with  ears  cocked  forward 
and  laps  all  spread  for  me  to  approach  and  pour 
out  my  woes. 

Well,  what  was  the  disappointing  fact  ?  Imme- 
diately on  arriving  I  sought  out  Dusenbury — 
rather,  perhaps,  I  may  say  that  I  saw  Dusenbury 
his  feet  comfortably  and  decently  elevated  on 
the  top  rail  of  a  chair,  seemingly  laying  back  for 
me.  Him  I  approached,  bearing  with  me,  as  a 
sort  of  propitiatory  offering  a  Reina  Victoria  (of 
that  brand  whereof  you  can  only  get  two  for  a 
half,  though  you  take  a  dollar's  worth),  which 
he  accepted  without  the  least  hesitation  or 
symptom  of  mental  confusion.  Nay,  more,  he 
asked  after  my  health,  and  took  the  last  match 
I  had,  in  the  kindliest  way.  Then  conversation 
began.  But  barely  had  I  set  forth  how  a  cold 
had  come  upon  me  in  the  Spring,  a  cold  which 
finally  settled  down  all  over  me,  and  of  late 
had  excited  the  apprehension  of  friends — many 


126  My  Vacation. 

of  whom  were  fearful  that  it  would  not  cany  me 
off — barely  had  I  got  that  far — not  a  word  yet 
about  my  rheumatism — when  he  began  on  me 
with  his  sciatica.  I  couldn't  get  my  shoulder 
blades  in  edgeways.  Such  an  egotistical  ass  I 
never  saw  in  my  life.  Politeness  compelled  me 
to  sit  still  and  listen  to  him,  but  on  another  oc- 
casion of  the  kind  I  shall  rise  and  excuse  myself, 
at  the  risk  of  being  considered  rude.  Why,  by 
the  way  he  went  on  you  would  have  thought 
that  I  came  to  Saratoga  wholly  to  hear  about 
his  cursed  sciatica — which  I  do  hope  will  tie  him 
up  in  a  double  bow-knot  before  it  has  done  with 
him — when  the  fact  is  that  my  only  object  in 
coming  was  to  tell  him  about  my  rheumatism  ! 

So  it  is  all  through.  Last  evening  I  prome- 
naded with  a  young  lady  in  whom  I  fancied  I 
had  found  a  congenial  soul — feme-sole — but  dis- 
appointment was  again  my  doom.  The  Perfidy 
of  Man  was  my  theme,  and  a  flagrant  instance, 
in  which  I  had  been  the  victim,  was  in  my  mind. 
Of  course,  I  began  by  advancing  a  general  prop- 
position  as  to  the  Perfidy.  Her  dark  eyes  turned 
upon  me  like — ah,  have  you  ever  stood  by  a 


My  Vacation.  127 

still  mountain  lake  and  looked  down  into  the 
shaded  depths  ?  And  what  saw  you  ?  Well, 
looking  into  this  young  lady's  eyes  I  saw  myself 
mirrored  there,  it  seemed,  and  when  one  sees 
one's  self  in  another's  eyes  he  is  apt  to  think  that 
sympathy  is  shining  all  around  and  the  rest  of  the 
story  is  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a  log.  So  I  went 
on  about  the  Perfidy  of  Man.  And  she  pressed 
my  arm  at  particular  passages,  while  deep  sighs 
agitated  her  tumultuous  tulle.  When  I  spoke  of 
the  woe  which  possesses  the  human  soul  when  it 
finds  that  it  has  pursued  a  cheat,  a  phantasm, 
has  held  that  as  true  which  is,  really  falser  and 
more  fleeting  than  the  ringlet  born  of  a  hot  pipe 
stem,  collapsing  and  straightening  out  like  a 
shoe-string  on  the  first  approach  of  wet  weather 
— when  I  spoke  of  this  the  double  box-trimming 
on  her  breast  rose  and  fell  like  the  waters  of  a 
canal  when  a  deep  laden  boat,  drawn  by  a  pair 
of  spirited  mules,  plows  madly  over  the  surface 
and  stirs  up  the  bullpouts  and  catfish. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  then  you  know  all  ?  I  had 
thought  of  speaking  to  you  about  it,  but  was  re- 
strained by  the  fear  that  you  might  think  me  for- 


128  My  Vacation. 

ward  and  unmaidenly,  so  I  kept  the  secret  (for 
secret  I  supposed  it  to  be),  and  would  not  have 
spoken  about  it  at  all  had  I  not  discovered  by 
your  absorbed  air  and  the  confidence  bestowed 
upon  me  this  evening  that  you  have  detected 
his  duplicity,  and  that  I  might  come  to  you  as 
to  a  brother  and  say — " 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "to  tell  the  truth,  I  have 
longed  for  this  moment.  It  has,  indeed,  seemed 
to  me  at  times  that  without  some  relief  in  words 
— for  men  of  my  stern  temperament,  alas,  are 
shut  off  by  imperative  custom  from  the  relief  of 
tears,  debarred,  sad  to  say,  from  the  mitigation 
which  weeping  brings  to  lesser  minds — I  must 
fidget,  fade,  evanesce,  droop,  die  ; — aye,  pass  in 
my  chips,  dear  friend.  For  when  it  first  flashed 
upon  me  that  the  false  Fairtuther — " 

"  But  his  name  is  not  Fairtuther,  it  is  Dionysius 
Roberto  Diffendroffer,  and  his  behavior  was 
such  that  it  led  mamma  and  me  to  believe — to 
believe — and  now — now — oh,  I  shall  die,  I  know 
I  shall,  for  everybody  must  be  talking  about  it, 
and  that  hateful  Semantha  Semithers  says — 
boo-hoo-boo-hoo-boo-hoo  ! " 


My  Vacation.  129 

Beauty  was  dissolved  in  tears,  and  the  true 
state  of  the  case  became  apparent  in  a  moment. 
While  I  had  been  inveighing  against  the  perfidy 
of  man  in  general,  meaning  iny  man  in  particular, 
and  imagining  that  at  last  I  had  found  a  lofty 
spirit,  which  could  leave  the  diminutive  delights 
of  the  drawing-room,  the  poor  plane  of  the 
parlors,  and  walk  with  me  in  the  sublimated 
ether  of  my  own  experiences,  verily  the  young 
woman  was  busy  with  her  own  wretchedness, 
was  but  brooding  over  a  frivolous  and  uninteres- 
ting flirtation  in  which  the  birch-bark  canoe  of  her 
affections  came  to  grief  and  wreck  upon  some 
insignificant  snag  or  sawyer  known  in  the  shallow 
waters  around  as  Dionysius  Roberto  Diffen- 
droffer. 

9 


MINOR    MANNERS    AND    MORALS. 

CELESTIAL  PHENOMENA  ;  RINGS  IN  HEAVEN — 
QUIDDING  AND  QUOTING— CONTRACTION  UNDER 
DIFFICULTIES — FASHIONS  IN  WEAR  OF  WOMAN'S 
HAIR— A  PLEA  FOR  THE  WAITER  AND  CHAMBER- 
MAID. 

SARATOGA,  Aug.  3. 

"  Last  night  I  saw  the  old  moon,  mother, 
With  the  new  moon  in  her  arms." 

|OT  that  exactly,  but  last  Sunday  we 
did  see  something  which  quite  as  certain- 
ly portended  foul  weather.  A  great 
luminous  ring,  glowing  with  all  the  opaline  lights 
and  tinted  fires  of  a  rainbow,  surrounded  the 
sun.  And  not  far  distant  from  the  first,  but 
totally  distinct,  a  second  and  a  third  ring  hooped 
great  disks  of  heaven  in. 

The  sight  was  strange  to   me,  and  the   oldest 
inhabitant   with  whom  a  special  interview  has 


My  Vacation.  131 

been  had  apropos  of  the  phenomenon,  answers 
all  who  ask  that  never  before  has  he  seen  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  He  thinks  it  a  harbinger  of 
the  discovery  of  another  mineral  spring.  Various 
explanations  of  the  phenomenon  have  been  had 
on  all  sides.  One  gentleman  who  had  just 
taken  an  unusually  large  draught  of  Hathorn 
water,  thought  that  we  but  saw  the  iridescent 
ghost  of  Andy  Johnson  swinging  round  a  shining 
centre  in  infinite  space.  It  has  been  very 
universally  remarked  that  'tis  little  use  to  break 
up  rings  here  on  earth  if  they  are  to  be  inaugurated 
above,  and  that  it  is  hard  lines  indeed  if  one 
cannot  get  to  heaven  without  the  intervention  of 
a  ring.  A  scientific  gentleman  from  Georgia 
said  that  the  phenomenon  was  wholly  due  to  an 
aggregation  of  watery  particles  in  the  atmosphere, 
an  aggregation  which,  conglomerating  around 
the  sun,  absorbs  its  scintillations,  and  so  by  a 
very  simple  and  well  known  law  of  refraction, 
causes  a  disintegration  of — of — 

I  don't  remember  exactly  what,  but  if  there's 
any  virtue  in  polysyllables  it  must  have  been 
something  nice,  and  everybody  has  reason  to  be 


132  My  Vacation. 

satisfied.  It  is  not  quite  clear  to  me,  however, 
that  I  caught  the  idea  exactly. 

But  to-day  we  all  know  what  was  meant.  It  is 
dark,  cold,  rainy.  The  piazzas  are  deserted  and 
folks  sit  indoors,  listening  to  music  in  the  parlor, 
where  cheerful  fires  are  lit.  The  race  set  down 
for  to-day  is  postponed,  and  on  all  sides  you 
hear  the  remark,  "  What  a  dreadful  day  !  "  Not 
so  to  my  thinking.  The  darkened  sky  gives 
grateful  relief  from  the  glaring  sun,  which  for 
days  and  days  has  hung  over-head  ;  and  to  see 
the  streets  empty  for  once  is  pleasant.  Then, 
on  a  day  like  this,  one  can  go  to  his  room  and 
indulge  in  moral  reflections  or  write  a  confusing 
article  on  finance. 

I've  been  morally  reflecting  all  the  morning, 
my  own  shortcomings  the  theme.  It  seems  to 
me  that  my  most  besetting  sm  is  the  habit  lately 
acquired  of  beginning  all  serious  essays  with  a 
line  or  two  of  poetry  from  some  high  old  bard 
.vhose  distant  footsteps  echo  down  the  cullenders 
of  Time.  Quoting  is  like  chewing,  I  fancy — the 
habit  once  acquired  is  indulged  in  unconsciously. 
So  confirmed  has  it  become  upon  me  that  I 


My  Vacation.  133 

really  am  not  happy  unless  I  have  a  quid  of  a 
quotation  in  my  mouth.  It  matters  little  what 
the  brand.  If  the  Solace  of  Whittier  be  not 
handy,  Emerson's  Fine  Cut  will  serve;  failing 
that,  Bryant's  Century,  Longfellow's  smooth 
Cavendish,  or  Stedman's  Honey  Leaf  come  to 
be  rolled  like  sweet  morsels  between  my  lips ; 
in  default  of  other  chews  or  choice  I  even  essay 
to  gnaw  upon  the  plain  plug  of  Walt  Whitman. 
This  habit  must  be  amended — and  I  have  made 
a  note  of  it  accordingly. 

My  mother  bids  me  bang  my  hair. 

Or  does  the  poet  say  "  bind  ? "  If  their  mothers 
bid  them  do  it,  the  girls  are  excusable — for  girls 
should  mind  their  mothers  in  little  things,  so  as 
to  earn  the  right  to  do  just  as  they  please  when 
big  differences  come  up — but  if  not  they  deserve 
to  have  their  heads  banged  for  their  pains.  There 
is  nothing  graceful  in  the  fashion,  every  principle 
of  art  is  violated,  nothing  of  nature — except  a 
suspicion  of  ill-nature,  perhaps, —  is  suggested. 
For  the  man  who  is  bald  way  to  his  ears  and  half 
way  down  his  back  as  well,  to  bang  his  hair  for- 


134  My  Vacation. 

ward  and  so  conceal  the  ravages  of  the  moth  and 
vandal  as  well  as  he  can,  may  not  be  morally 
wrong,  but  the  girl  of  the  period  should  pause  on 
the  precipice  of  the  forehead,  if  she  do  not  come 
to  a  full  stop.  If  you  bang  your  hair,  fair  maiden, 
why  not  wear  bangles  as  well  ?  Both  wears  are 
Oriental.  The  Chinese  virgin  bangs  her  nut- 
brown  hair  over  her  almond  eyes  as  a  sign  and 
symbol ;  the  bang  is  a  badge  of  maidenhood, 
corresponding  to  the  snood  of  the  Scottish  lass. 
The  Buddhist  bangs  you  a  bang  for  use  and  not 
for  ornament. 

But  bad  as  this  imported  fashion  is,  I  do  in- 
deed think  it  preferable  to  the  plastering  down 
of  the  hair  in  wavy  lines  and  scollops  so  much 
affected  by  women  of  the  day.  They  think  it 
nice,  undoubtedly,  but  it  looks  nasty,  and  one 
thinks  but  of  glue  and  gum  as  he  gazes.  A 
style  more  unbecoming  to  the  contour  of  the 
human  face  could  not  be  devised  by  the  most 
diabolical  ingenuity.  The  idea  of  thus  plaster- 
ing down*  what;  was  intended  to  be  free  and 
flowing,  of  arranging  in  set  scollops  that  the 
charm  of  which  consists  in  its  very  unconfmed- 


My  Vacation.  135 

ness  and  irregularity,  of  depriving  the  crowning 
glory  of  a  woman's  head  of  all  its  life  and  spirit, 
is  repugnant  to  all  the  canons  of  good  taste. 
Out  upon  you,  women  !  Why  will  ye  thus  deface 
the  temples  which  the  Almighty  made 
beautiful?  You  ask  to  be  allowed  to  vote, 
clamor  for  admittance  into  colleges,  demand 
that  you  shall  assist  in  the  making  of  laws, 
knock  at  the  doors  of  the  learned  professions, 
and  growl  if  they  be  not  opened  unto  you,  shriek, 
out  to  the  stars  a  wild  complaint  about  being 
downtrodden,  and  yet  come  gotten  up  in  this 
most  outrageous  guise  !  Think  ye  to  fill  the  cham- 
bers of  the  brain  with  languages  and  ologies  ? 
Why  not  learn  to  arrange  the  0z//-side  of  your 
heads  decently  and  becomingly  before  bothering 
much  about  the  in  ?  If  you  must  scollop  some- 
thing, scollop  your  brains,  good  sisters  ;  plaster 
them  down  in  fanciful  curls  and  quids  ;  but  let 
your  hair  float  free.  Glue  your  morals  to  the 
the  mast,  if  need  be  ;  gum  your  manners  into 
symmetrical  curves  and  angles,  but  let  your  locks 
have  a  comfortable  looseness  of  look.  Pretty 
pictures  you'd  be,  indeed,  parading  to  the  polls, 


136  My  Vacation. 

prancing  about  in  the  pulpit,  blustering  at  the  bar 
swinging  the  scalpel  in  the  dissecting-room  with 
banged  or  scolloped  hair !  I'm  not  a  savage  but 
never  do  I  see  a  woman  with  her  hair  so  arrang- 
ed that  there  does  not  come  upon  me  an  eager 
desire  to  scalp  her,  to  part  her  hair  properly  in 
the  middle — with  an  ax ;  either  to  murder  her 
or  marry  her  to  a  barber. 

Now,  I  shall  leave  by  an  early  morning  train. 
Wrath  at  the  way  these  women  fix  their  head- 
gear has  been  seething  deep  down  in  my  coppers 
for  some  time,  and,  at  last  it  has  boiled  over. 
The  result  may  be  foretold.  My  hair  would  be 
scolloped  before  another  sun  set  on  Saratoga  did 
I  remain  ;  on  me  would  the  women  all  sit  down 
severely  ;  not  those  who  scollop  their  hair  only 
— the  whole  female  tribe  would  be  my  enemies 
in  the  future.  Attack  one  woman  for  a  folly, 
and  do  you  not  challenge  all  ?  For  if  a  woman 
do  not  scollop  her  hair,  the  chances  are  that 
she  does  something  else  equally  bad  or  much 
worse.  Encourage  a  man  to  make  a  raid  upon 
one  folly,  and  who  of  the  sex  would  be  safe  ? 
Criticism  must  be  suppressed,  all  advice  repell- 


My  Vacation.  137 

edj  the  whole  female  brigade  must  form  in  hol- 
low square  and  bristle  on  every  side  with  bayonet- 
thrust  of  action  and  saber-cut  of  speech,  or  the 
line  is  carried,  and  the  traditional  right  of 
woman,  which  dates  back  to  the  fig  leaf,  to  dis- 
figure herself  at  her  own  sweet  will,  becomes  a 
figment  purely  of  the  past.  In  this  banding  to- 
gether for  defensive  purposes  the  sex  are  move- 
ed  by  a  spreedacore,  perhaps,  a  spree  which 
began  with  the  eating  of  the  apple  by  the  prime- 
val pair  and  continues  on  even  down  to  the  pre- 
sent miscegeneration.  Thus,  if  I  pitch  into  a 
foolish  virgin  from  Virginia,  who  sits  with  the 
motto  of  her  State — a  Sic  simper — on  her  face 
from  dewy  morn  to  silent  eve,  some  maiden  from 
Maine  invariably  rushes  to  the  rescue,  eager  to 
shiver  a  pine  lance  in  defense  of. something  or 
some  one  she  knows  and  cares  nothing  about. 

This  moral  reflecting,  with  steam  turned  on 
in  the  heaters,  and  gas-pipes  which  simulate  hick- 
ory sticks  burning  brightly  in  the  parlor  grates, 
is  very  pleasant.  The  cold  and  rainy  weather 
of  to-day  is,  indeed,  in  strange  contrast  to  the 
sunniness  which  has  been  the  rule  until  now. 


138  My  Vacation. 

In  this  climatic  change  Isaac  Sherman  thinks 
we  have  the  contraction  which  he  has  been  fore- 
telling. For  cold  is  contraction,  sunshine  ex- 
pansion, he  says,  and  the  signs  of  the  times  are 
visible  on  all  sides.  In  an  aquarium  yesterday 
a  mud-turtle  drew  his  head  into  his  shell,  when 
Mr.  Sherman  poked  him  with  a  cane.  "  Wise 
fellow,"  said  my  friend  ;  "  he  sees  the  necessity 
of  contracting."  The  waiter  this  morning 
brought  the  Great  Contractor  a  beefsteak,  about 
as  large  as  a  lead  pencil  and  rather  thinner  than 
a  wafer  it  was.  "  Isn't  this  a  little  too  thin  ?  " 
he  asked,  in  expostulating  tones.  But  when 
Scipio  Africanus  explained  that  this  was  but  the 
beginning  of  a  healthy  and  inevitable  contraction, 
and  that  the  day  was  rapidly  dawning  when  that 
beefsteak,  now  scorned  for  its  size,  -would  seem 
comparatively  as  big  as  a  dinner-platter,  my 
friend  seemed  satisfied.  Not  so  the  waiter,  how- 
ever, when  the  Contractionist  of  the  Period 
handed  him  a  ten-cent  piece  instead  of  a  quarter, 
and,  after  this  practical  illustration  of  his  hobby, 
mounted  it  and  rode  to  Washington  and  back. 
I  may  be  wrong  about  it,  but  I  fancied  that 
Scipio  looked  black  when  we  left  him. 


My  Vacation.  139 

The  boys  of  the  dining-room  do  not  like  con- 
traction :  they  can  see  no  necessity  for  it  and 
no  fun  in  it,  either.  Just  as  much  money  in 
the  world  now  as  ever  :  all  very  well  for  Massa 
Sherman  to  talk  'bout  rag-money,  but  it  buys 
dry  goods  pretty  good :  men's  stomachs  do  not 
contract  at  all  ;  takes  just  as  much  to  fill'em  as 
ever,  they  urge.  In  the  face  of  all  these  facts 
their  perquisites  are  cut  down  :  they  still  have 
to  feed  the  many,  but  seldom  get  feed  them- 
selves in  return,  and  they  won't  stand  it  much 
longer,  they  say. 

After  faithfully  trying  it  on  for  a  week  or  two, 
I  am  free  to  confess  that  contraction  in  the 
matter  of  tipping  the  dining-room  boys  doesn't 
work  well.  The  result  of  such  an  experi- 
ment is  a  long  while  to  wait  and  nothing  to 
eat.  I  contrived  a  rather  neat  way  of  flanking 
the  difficulty,  securing,  as  one  might  say,  the 
consideration  bestowed  upon  a  cheerful  giver 
without  bringing  upon  myself  the  impoverish- 
ment consequent  on  really  giving,  by  taking 
one  of  the  new  fifty-cent  pieces  ostentatious- 
ly from  my  pocket  and  putting  it  conspicu- 


140  My  Vacation. 

ously  under  an  inverted  tumbler.  Magnified 
by  the  convex  bottom  of  the  glass  it  looked 
larger  then  a  dollar.  Dinner  came  as  by  magic  ; 
fish  followed  upon  the  soup  with  the  celerity  of 
indigestion  after  cucumbers,  and  at  the  fish's 
tail  came  a  long  and  a  glorious  procession  of 
roast  meats,  entres,  vegetables,  and  several 
kinds  of  dessert — whipped  creams  and  the  like. 
(If  every  one  had  his  dessert,  as  Shakespeare 
says,  few  creams  would  'scape  whipping!)  Well, 
there  never  was  better  service  than  I  got  for  a 
while.  Then,  when  dinner  was  done,  I  did  the 
waiter  who  brought  it,  by  quietly  taking  the 
National  currency  from  under  the  tumbler  and 
returning  it  to  my  pocket,  counseling  William, 
as  I  arose  from  the  table,  not  to  sink  any  money 
which  others  might  give  him  in  French  pools. 
But  you  can't  play  a  spot  ball  of  that  kind  more 
then  a  certain  number  of  times.  They  come  to 
know  you  after  a  while,  and  then  it  would  be 
thought  that  your  table  had  the  small-pox,  by 
the  way  the  boys  in  black  avoid  it.  So  I  had 
to  return  finally  to  the  old-time  plan  and  pa) 
honestly  and  squarely  for  all  service  rendered. 


My  Vacation.  141 

Why  should  one  not  ?  What  is  the  use  of 
standing  on  a  point  of  principle  and  going 
hungry  in  the  midst  of  plenty  ?  Better  follow 
the  custom  of  the  country  and  do  as  others  do. 
The  expenditure  involved  is  small ;  the  incon 
venience  entailed  by  an  avoidance  of  it  is  great. 
Perhaps  it  is  wrong  to  bribe  a  waiter  to  bring 
you  that  for  which  you  pay  the  landlord.  But 
take  another  view  of  it ;  place  the  transaction 
on  a  different  basis.  You  never  refuse  yourself 
the  pleasure  of  "  treating"  a  friend  because  it 
costs  you  something.  Just  consider  Amos, 
William,  or  any  one  of  the  boys  your  friend, 
and  "  treat"  him  accordingly.  Instead  of  fool- 
ing quarters  away  in  drinks  for  those  who  need 
them  not,  place  them  where  they  will  do  the 
most  good  to  yourself  as  well  as  to  others.  "  They 
also  serve  who  stand  and  wait" — let  the  waiters 
have  a  little  loose  change  once  in  a  while. 
Here  is  the  chamber-maid,  too,  who  assiduously 
hides  your  slippers  where  you  can't  find  them  ; 
turns  your  night-shirt  wrong  side  out  most  care- 
fully before  putting  it  away  ;  fills  the  match-safe 
with  once-used  matches ;  piles  the  papers,  which 


14.2  My  Vacation. 

you  have  carefully  separated,  into  one  promiscu- 
ous heap  ;  forgets  to  fill  your  pitcher ;  dissipates 
mildly  upon  your  hair  oil — refuse  not  to  make 
this  chamber-maid  happy  occasionally  by  a  slight 
remembrance.  A  greenback  will  be  green  in 
her  memory  forever.  Avail  yourself  not  of  the 
old  injunction,  "  Be  just  and  fee  'er  not,"  but 
pay  over  your  money  and  look  pleasant.  So 
shall  your  days  be  long  in  the  hotel,  and  so 
shall  not  your  nights  be  sleepless.  For  the 
chamber-maid  can  smuggle  broken  crockery  in- 
to the  mattress  if  she  choose,  and  the  sheets 
can  be  made  to  bristle  with  hair-pins  as  by  ac- 
cident. 

But  it  is  dreadful  weather  for  a  garden  party, 
and  I  think  a  postponement  of  it  is  inevitable. 


MY  SON. 

JONATHAN    EDWARDS    EXPLAINED DISAPPOINT- 
MENT OF   MRS.  PAUL  ON   FINDING  THAT  THE 

GIRL  WAS   A  BOY CONFUSION   OF   NAMES — A 

BABY'S  FONDNESS  FOR  EXERCISE  AND  LACK  OF 
MORAL  SENSE — MY  SON  AS  A  HUMORIST — HIS 
TEETH  AND  HIS  TROUBLES. 

SARATOGA,  Aug,  5. 

j|S  I  remarked  in  my  last,  it  is  dreadful 
weather  for  a  garden  party  For  two 
days  past  it  has  rained  .incessantly,  and 
now,  on  the  day  appointed  for  the  fete,  it  pours 
in  torrents.  My  invitation  reads ;  "  Ladies  and 
gentlemen  are  politely  requested  to  dress  in  a 
manner  suitable  to  the  occasion.  Ladies  in  walk- 
ing dresses  of  light  and  gray  colors  :  parasols  of 
various  colors." 

Nothing  could  be  more  "  suitable  to  the  occa- 


144  My  Vacation. 

sion  "  than  rubber  boots  and  waterproof  jacket 
— not  a  very  picturesque  get  up,  perhaps,but  if 
the  ladies  also  wear  umbrellas  of  various  colors 
the  effect  will  be  pleasing.  And  the  substitution 
of  umbrellas  for  parasols  would  not  be  a  serious 
departure  from  the  idea  of  the  invitation,  I  fancy. 
But  the  indications  are  that  our  garden  party 
will  be  postponed.  On  some  sides  a  disposition 
is  evinced  to  have  it  come  off  weather  or  no,  but 
this  feeling  is  noticeable  mainly  among  the 
bachelors  of  the  hotel,  who,  it  is  strongly  sus- 
pected, would  not  object  to  a  general  drowning 
of  the  babies.  Yet,  of  the  two,  which  is  of 
greater  use  in  society,  to  say  nothing  of  orna- 
mentation, bachelor  or  baby  ?  The  floor  is  open 
to  any  mother  who  would  like  to  reply. 

The  amount  of  patience  which  we  bring  to 
bear  on  babies  depends  very  much  on  whether 
or  not  we  have  babies  of  our  own.  There  was 
a  time  when  I  would  have  joined  heartily  enough 
in  gentle  Elia's  traditional  toast,  "  To  the 
health  of  the  much  calumniated  good  King  Her- 
od." But  that  was  before  the  advent  of  Jona- 
than Edwards. 


My  Vacation.  145 

'Twas  a  bitter  cold  day  in  February  when  Jon- 
athan Edwards  arrived — the  bitterest  and  cold- 
est day  not  only  of  the  winter,  but  the  bitterest 
and  coldest  since  1820,  the  chronicles  said. 
And  to  be  roused  at  an  unseemly  hour  on  such 
a  morning,  and  started  off  on  a  most  embarrassing 
and  unnaccustomed  errand,  is  enough  in  all  con- 
science to  disturb  the  spiritual  balance  of  a  ner- 
vous man  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

******** 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  muster  the 
courage  to  ask  whether  I  was  a  father  or  a 
mother — not  that  I  had  no  curiosity  about 
it,  but  because  the  treatmeitt  which  I  had  for 
some  hours  undergone  made  it  a  question  in  my 
mind  whether  I  had  any  rights  which  any  hu- 
man being  was  Bound  to  respect,  when  a  rather 
raised  and  indignant  voice  replied,  "  She's  a 
boy."  I  felt  that  the  supreme  moment  of  my  life 
was  at  hand,  and  that  fortitude  was  necessary. 
For  a  most  serious  complication  had  come,  trou- 
ble loomed  darkly  on  both  bows  as  well  as  dead 
ahead  ;  of  this  I  was  aware,  even  before  I  caught 

the  soft  gray  eyes  of  Mrs.  Paul  fixed  reproach- 
10 


146  My  Vacation. 

fully  upon  me.  We  had  half  promised  one  lady 
friend  that  it  should  be  named  Louise  ;  another 
was  happy  in  the  conviction  that  we  were  to  call 
it  Caroline  ;  but  deep  down  in  the  recesses  of  her 
heart  Mrs.  Paul  had  settled  that  the  girl  should 
bear  the  name  of  a  great  (and  good)  aunt,  and 
glide  gently  down  the  stream1  of  Time  ticketed 
"  Dorothy  Jane."  You  see  the  dilemma ;  all  pre 
vious  plans  were  disarranged — none  of  the  names 
would  now  do.  And  thus  it  is  that  to  this  day 
the  babe  has  but  a  nom  de  berceau,  as  'twere — 
Jonathan  Edwards.  The  fault  is  not  mine,  cer- 
tainly ;  but  never  a  day  passes  over  my  head 
that  it  is  not  flung  up  to  me  that  but  for  me  the 
babe  would  have  a  name.  And  with  each  re- 
curring dawn  the  question  is  hurled  at  me, 
"  What  do  you  mean  to  call  him,  anyway  ?  " 

Sometimes  I  think  of  shaking  a  lot  of  good 
names  up  in  a  bag  and  letting  him  grab  for  one, 
so  shifting  the  responsibility  from  my  own  shoul- 
ders to  those  of  the  Fates.  Again,  it  occurs  to 
me  that  perhaps  'twere  only  right  to  wait  till  he 
grows  up,  and  then  let  him  choose  a  name  for 
himself ! 


My  Vacation.  147 

In  the  meanwhile  the  boy  seems  to  grow  and 
thrive  as  well  as  though  he  had  been  christened 
George  Washington  or  Julius  Caesar  at  birth. 
For  his  own  part,  he  has  never,  from  the  first, 
shown  much  care  about  being  named.  On  ar- 
riving at  the  hotel  he  made  no  sign  from  which  I 
can  infer  that  he  was  anxious  that  the  register 
should  be  brought  up  to  him.  Lately  from  the 
tropics,  a  hot-air  register  would  not  have  been 
unacceptable,  perhaps ;  but  as  for  immediately 
writing  his  name  and  place  of  residence,  and 
final  destination,  down  in  a  book,  he  manifested 
no  eager  ambition.  His  chief  anxiety  was  about 
meals.  Here  was  a  hotel  kept  on  the  Euro- 
pean plan,  meals  supposed  to  be  ready  at  all 
hours,  yet  there  'seemed  to  be  nothing  ready  for 
him.  Little  wonder  that  he  set  up  a  wail  of 
vexation. 

What  a  hurry  and  scurry  there  then  was  in 
the  hall,  to  be  sure  !  No  need  to  carry  the  news 
to  Mary  ;  she  and  Nora,  Bridget,  Kathleen,  and 
Kate  knew  it  as  soon  as  anybody ;  and  they 
must  have  trumpeted  the  story  through  the 
resonant  speaking-tubes,  which  lead  all  over  the 


148  My  Vacation, 

house.  For,  verily,  the  chambermaids  who  came 
with  dust-pans,  and  the  firemen  who  came  with 
coal-scuttles,  and  the  bell-boys  who  came  with 
pitchers  of  ice-water,  were  a  sight  to  see.  That 
they  looked  for  largess  because  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, that  they  expected  gratuities,  cannot  be, 
for  they  asked  for  none.  But  they  offered  fervid 
congratulations,  and  lingered  round  after  they 
had  spoken  them,  when  there  really  remained 
nothing  more  to  be  said.  Even  the  sparrows 
knew  all  about  it,  and  came  hopping  upon  the 
window-sill  and  pecking  at  the  panes,  not  with 
an  eye  to  crumbs,  I  am  sure.  Then,  when  I 
came  to  walk  down  town  in  an  hour  or  two, 
the  people  in  the  omnibuses  and  on  the  street 
corners  and  in  the  club  windows  were  talking 
about  it  and  looking  at  me.  "  See  !  that's  the 
father  of  the  baby  just  born  at  the  Quillsey 
House  ;  there  he  goes  ;  don't  he  feel  mighty 
fine,"  they  said — just  as  though  a  baby  had  nev- 
er before  been  born.  But  the  marked  attention 
so  liberally  bestowed  pleased  me  :  not  that  I  my- 
self had  any  foolish  vanity  ;  but  was  it  not  a 
compliment  to  MY  SON  ?  Both  nurse  and  doctor 


My  Vacation.  149 

said  he  was  a  fine  boy,  but  when  I  came  to  make 
a  critical  examination  of  his  legs,  they  distressed 
me.  They  seemed  dreadfully  bow.  But  this,  I 
was  told,  is  a  peculiarity  of  babies.  (Perhaps 
the  bow  shape  is  given  so  that  they  may  lie  by 
the  hour  and  fiddle  away  at  their  heads,  when 
they've  nothing  better  to  do.)  His  ears,  too,  in 
the  dim  religious  light  of  the  chamber,  looked 
like  crumpled  rose-leaves.  These  latter  are  all 
smoothed  out  now,  but  in  his  legs  I  still  see  a 
funny  sort  of  parenthesis.  Experts  assure  me 
that  they'll  straighten  out  in  time.  I  don't  much 
care  whether  they  do  or  not — they'll  be  handy 

just  as  they  are  when  he  comes  to  ride  nail-kegs. 

******** 

Sprawling  about  on  a  blanket,  looking  some 
like  an  under-boiled  crab,  more  like  an  overdone 
cherub — this,  then,  was  My  Son  !  Here  was  the 
heir  of  much  of  my  fortune  and  all  my  greatness, 
wrapped  up  in  a  square  of  cotton-batting  no 
larger  than  a  pocket-handkerchief  There  had 
been  long  months  of  weary  waiting  and  ardent 
expectation,  most  elaborate  preparation  had 
been  made,  and  here  was  the  mouse ! 


150  My  Vacation. 

Looking  at  this  shrimp  of  humanity,  swaddled 
like  a  miniature  mummy,  little  did  I  imagine  the 
power  which  there  lay  latent ;  little  did  I  dream 
that  those  tiny  arms — scarce  larger  than  a  pipe- 
stem — would  in  time  come  to  pull  me  hither  and 
thither,  I  powerless  the  while,  as  though  swayed 
by  the  horses  of  Thrace  ;  that  they  would  hold 
me  back  from  my  amusements,  fetter  me  when  I 
wished  to  work,  keep  me  in  doors  when  it  was 
my  will  to  go  out,  drive  me  out  when  I  wished  to 
stay  in.  But  belio-id  me  now,  the  slave  of  that 
molecule's  whim,  the  veriest  creature  of  his 
caprice  !  If  he  holds  out  his  little  hands  tome,  I 
must  needs  drop  whatever  I  am  busied  with  and 
take  him.  Work  may  stand  still,  but  his  sweet 
will  may  not  be  thwarted.  And  he  is  the  veritable 
Old  Man  of  the  Sea.  Once  mounted  on  my 
shoulders,  I  cannot  dislodge  him.  He  likes 
walking ;  exercise  of  that  kind  does  not  seem 
to  tire  him  at  all.  I  think  he  could  survive  be- 
ing carried  round  the  room  till  the  ceiling  fell  in 
— his  talent  for  that  sort  of  thing  is  wonderful. 
Nor  does  he  ever  tire  of  the  great  moral  drama. 
When  I  crawl  about  the  floor  on  all  fours,  bark- 


My  Vacation.  151 

ing  like  a  dog  -and  arching  up  my  back  like  a 
cat,  he  applauds  vehemently.  So  when  I  bang 
my  nose  against  the  door,  in  an  awkward  effort 
to  play  bo-peep  for  his  amusement — so,  too, 
when  I  dance  round  the  room  on  my  head  to 
show  him  how  he'd  look-  upside  down — on  all 
these  occasions  he  is  not  sparing  of  plaudits,  and 
he  never  fails  to  express  his  wish  that  the  play 
should  go  on.  Already  I've  worn  out  several 
pairs  of  trowsers,  and  am  looking  round  for  new 
properties — a  false  nose  and  a  wig,  for  instance. 
I  have  spoken  of  My  Son  as  the  Old  Man  of 
the  Sea,  but  this  was  figuratively.  At  first  coming, 
though,  with  his  weazened  face  and  wrinkled 
ways,  he  really  did  seem  to  be  but  a  little  old 
man.  When  he  scowled  at  you,  the  suggestion 
was  striking.  As  for  interest  in  things  around 
him,  he  had  none.  He  had  not  the  air  of  one  to 
whom  the  world  was  new,  but  rather  of  one  to 
whom  it  was  tediously  old,  and  neither  amusing 
nor  instructive.  Even  at  the  patent  silver  door- 
knobs, that  wouldn't  move  when  you  turned  them, 
and  at  the  bright  bell-pulls,  that  wouldn't  ring 
when  you  pulled  them,  he  looked  as  though  he 


1 52  My  Vacation. 

had  seen  modern  improvements  before.  If  you 
spoke  to  him,  it  attracted  his  attention  not  at  all ; 
just  an  indifferent  gaze  he  gave  you  and  turned 
wearily  away,  as  though  occupied  with  matters 
of  greater  moment.  A  joke  was  worse  than 
thrown  away  on  him.  •  Though  every  one  else 
might  laugh,  he  but  looked  up  at  the  ceiling  and 
yawned,  as  who  should  say,  "  These  jokes  may 
do  very  well  for  you  down  here,  but  up  there 
where  I  come  from  they  have  much  better  ones." 
Yet  all  the  while  it  was  plain  that  he  was  a  first- 
class  humorist.  At  times  he  would  lie  for  an 
hour  smiling  away  within  himself  in  the  funniest 
fashion ;  catch  him  at  it,  and  he  became  grave 
at  once.  It  was  as  though  he  thought  that  that 
which  amused  him  was  too  far  beyond  our  com- 
prehension for  him  to  attempt  to  explain  it  to  us, 
and  he  did  not  wish  to  be  thought  frivolous,  so 
he  checked  his  smile 

The  little  sense  of  moral  obligation  that  a 
baby  has  is  a  marvel  to  me.  That  he  has  any 
duties  in  life  never  occurs  to  him.  In  the  pre- 
sent only  he  lives,  with  an  idea  evidently  that 
nothing  is  expected  of  him  but  to  grow.  Where 


My  Vacation.  153 

his  dinner  comes  from  matters  not  to  him,  so 
long  as  he  gets  it.  Though  it  may  be  that  the 
milk  whereon  he  rioteth  belongeth  of  right  to 
another  baby,  the  ethical  question  which  at  once 
ariseth  troubleth  him  not.  He  is  reckless  of  re- 
sults. Nor  am  I  certain  that  he  is  not  profane. 
When  he  mutters  to  himself  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  on  being  forbidden  something  for  which 
he  has  alonging  how  do  we  know  that  he  is  not 
swearing  ?  Possibly,  however,  he  is  only  preach- 
ing to  an  ideal  congregation,  and  is  terribly  in 
earnest  over  it ;  sometimes,  in  a  real  church,  with 
a  real  clergyman,  you  know,  we  might,  from  the 
manner,think  he  was  cursing  us,  if  we  did  n't  know 
what  was  being  said.  But  the  harangues  to  which 
Jonathan  Edwards  occasionally  treats  us  are  ex- 
cessively funny.  He  becomes  animated,  and  his 
gesticulation  is  rapid  and  expressive.  "  If  we 
had  another  baby  here  don't  you  think  he'd  know 
what  this  baby  is  saying  ? "  asked  little  Hal,  one 
day,  while  we  were  listening  to  one  of  the  in- 
fant orator's  fervid  exhortations. 

Perhaps  you  wonder  how  we  came  to  call  him 
Jonathan  Edwards.     Truth  to  tell,  I  hardly  know 


154  My  Vacation. 

myself.  But  the  name  somehow  seemed  to  fit 
him.  His  face  had  a  gravity  seldom  found  in 
one  so  young.  He  had  a  judicial  air,  too,  as 
though  in  his  own  mind  passing  on  momentous 
theological  questions.  Pleasant  his  expression 
was,  but  to  some  extent  severe.  And  this  same 
air  of  dignity  which  characterized  his  infancy 
he  still  preserves  at  the  ripe  age  of  seven  months. 
Approach  him  with  a  laugh,  and  he  by  no  means 
responds  at  once  in  kind.  No,  no,  indeed. 
First  he  looks  you  steadily  in  the  eye,  and  ap- 
parently considers  whether  or  not  there  is  '  any- 
thing to  laugh  at — whether  this  smile  which 
you  bring  to  him  is  simply  a  stereotyped 
and  unmeaning  one,  a  sort  of  sheet-iron  smile 
which  you  keep  regularly  on  hand  for  all  babies, 
or  a  good  square  smile,  bearing  a  deeper  sig- 
nificance. If  the  scrutiny  be  satisfactory,  he  gives 
a  pleasant  look  and  an  approving  nod,  perhaps 
adding  a  few  remarks  intended  to  be  reassuring 
and  complimentary,  but  if  not,  he  turns  his  head 
away  and  takes  no  further  notice  of  you.  Life 
is  too  brief,  he  thinks,  to  throw  much  of  it  away 
on  those  who  smile  because  they  can  think  of 


My  Vacation.  155 

nothing  else  to  do,  and,  young  though  he  is,  he 
has  no  time  to  waste  on  those  who  do  not  really 
love  him.  I  have  already  hinted  that  he  is  wag- 
gishly inclined.  Often,  when  you  hold  out  your 
arms  to  him,  he  will  extend  his  in  return,  but 
approach  to  take  him,  and  he  turns  his  head  cun- 
ningly away,  laying  it  over  his  nurse's  shoulder 
with  a  quiet  chuckle  as  though  to  say,  "  Not  for 
Jonathan  !  " 

I  do  not  know  that  ours  is  a  pretty  baby, 
but  no  one  has  yet  had  the  temerity  to  say,  in 
the  presence  of  either  father  or  mother,  that  he 
is  not.  It  is  certain  that  he.  has  lovely  blue 
eyes  and  a  delicate  complexion,  and  these 
go  a  great  way,  you  know,  in  determining  good 
looks.  His  hair,  what  there  is  of  it,  is  of  a  nice 
color,  and  shows  a  tendency  to  curl ;  but  we  take 
no  special  credit  to  ourselves  on  that  head  as 
yet,  and  when  photographed  we  clap  a  lace  wig 
on  him.  For  one  so  young,  he  is  certainly  very 
bald.  As  for  teeth,  they,  like  his  troubles,  are 
yet  to  come.  How  would  he  look  with  a  full 
upper  and  lower  set,  in  the  last  style  of  modern 
art  (like  the  ever-new  set  in  a  dentist's  show  win- 


156  My  Vacation, 

dows),  I  wonder  ?  His  figure  is  fine,  though  limp  ; 
but  of  late  his  backbone  has  stiffened  up  so 
that  he  can  sit  on  the  floor  without  every  minute 
lurching  forward  on  his  nose.  This  tumbling 
over  was  long  a  great  grief  to  him,  and  I  thought 
of  ballasting  him  heavily  below  the  waist  like  the 
toy  boys  you  buy  at  stores,  so  that  no  matter  how 
often  he  lost  his  balance,  he'd  at  once  regain  an 
upright  position  without  trouble  to  himself  or 
others.  If  his  nose  is  a  little  flat  now,  it  is  be- 
cause of  these  repeated  tumbles,  but  there  is  no 
question  that  in  the  fullness  of  time  he  will 
come  to  have  a  fine  Roman  beak  like  his 
mother's.  And  one  thing  is  certain  :  whether  hand- 
some or  not,  he  is  good  ;  and  in  this  and  his  bald- 
ness the  resemblance  between  myself  and  son, 
so  often  remarked  upon,  is  mainly  to  be  found, 
I  fancy.  Certainly  the  ladies  of  the  neighbor- 
hood are  fonder  of  him  than  they  are  of  rpe,  and 
send  in  so  frequently  to  borrow  him  that  I  am 
sometimes  tempted  to  send  back  a  polite  request 
that  they  will  get  babies  of  their  own.  The 
idea  of  sending  in  to  .borrow  a  baby  as  they 
would  a  churn  or  a  frying-pan  ! 


My  Vacation.  157 

The  only  grief  that  has  thus  far  come  upon 
Jonathan  Edwards  was  early  one  morning.  It 
was  very  careless  of  the  nurse.  She  had  repeat- 
edly been  cautioned  about  lying  down  with  the 
baby  in  her  arms  ;  for  that  both  had  a  talent  for 
falling  asleep  we  knew,  and  that  Jonathan 
would  be  handy  at  rolling  we  inferred.  Sure 
enough,  after  disturbing  us  all  by  ordering  one 
of  his  early  breakfasts  on  this  particular  morn- 
ing, quiet  had  just  settled  down  on  the  house- 
hold like  a  blanket,  when  there  came  a  most 
dreadful  yell  from  the  adjoining  room,  and,  rush- 
ing in,  we  found  Jonathan  flat  on  his  nose. 
(Somehow  he  always  strikes  square  on  his  nose.) 
It  was  bleeding.  Poor  boy  !  how  grieved  he  was ; 
it  was  the  only  time  that  hurt,  —  out-and-out 
physical  pain, — had  come  to  him,  and  he  didn't 
understand  it.  He  didn't  like  it,  either. 

I  took  him  up  tenderly  in  my  arms,  but  he 
would  not  be  pacified ;  aside  from  the  hurt,  I 
think  he  was  indignant.  And  his  nurse,  poor 
Ellen,  took  on  too,  screaming  and  tearing  out 
her  hair  by  the  roots,  with,  "  Musha !  I've 
murthered  me  cheild  !  "  My  soothing  assurance 


158  My  Vacation. 

that  I  would  murder  her  as  soon  as  I  could 
conveniently  lay  the  baby  down,  did  not  seem  to 
calm  her  somehow,  and  a  terrible  disturbance  of 
the  milk  was  threatened.  But  when  Dr.  Cook 
came,  he  said  no  bones  were  broken,  neither  was 
there  concussion  of  the  brain  to  be  feared ;  'twas 
only  a  concussion  of  the  nose.  As  for  Jonathan 
Edwards,  when  taken  in  arms  for  examination, 
he  ceased  crying  at  once,  and  seized  the  doctor 
by  the  beard  with  both  hands  ;  then  he  made  a 
dive  for  the  gold  spectacles.  And  when  nose 
was  mentioned,  he  set  up  a  crow  as  though  he 
knew  all  about  it  and  approved  of  the  diag- 
nosis. His  lurches  on  the  floor  were  not  lost 
upon  him.  On  the  whole,  it  was  a  very  good 
deliverance  from  very  bad  fears ;  and  after 
thanking  good  Doctor  Cook,  we  issued  a  bulle- 
tin stating  the  extent  of  the  injury  ;  every  one 
went  back  to  bed,  the  cook  returned  to  the 
kitchen,  and  so  quiet  once  more  reigned  on 
Cook's  Point. 

His  beauty  was  not  at  all  impaired  by  the 
accident.  Baby's  noses  are  made  of  india- 
rubber,  apparently,  and  regain  their  shape  with 


My  Vacation.  159 

wonderful  facility  after  being  flattened.  That 
you  may  see  this,  and,  further,  that  you  may  see 
that  what  I  say  of  Jonathan  Edwards  all 
through  has  a  foundation  in  truth  —  that  my 
pen-sketch  is  by  no  means  a  fancy  one — I  inclose 
his  photograph.  It  may  not  be  easy  to  reproduce 
it,  but  perhaps  you  can  print  a  diagram  of  him — 
give  the  front  and  rear  elevation,  if  not  a  sectional 
view.  I  have  pictures  to  spare,  for  when  there's 
nothing  else  to  do,  his  mother  sends  him  down 
town  to  be  photographed.  And  if  any  would 
like  a  photograph  of  the  boy.  I  would  not  object 
to  turning  an  honest  penny  by  supplying-  the 
demand,  at  a  trifling  advance  merely,  on  first 
cost. 


160  My  Vacation. 


THE  CAREER  OF  A  CALIFORNIAN. 

FROM    POVERTY    TO    POWER AMBITION    AND    ITS 

LESSONS SUMPTUOUS  LIVING  AND  MARVELLOUS 

HOSPITALITY — THE  BANK  THAT  AFTER  ALL 
WAS  BUT  AN  INDIVIDUAL ENORMOUS  ASPIRA- 
TIONS AND  A  TERRIBLE  FALL. 

COOK'S  POINT,  Aug.  29. 
ROM  mate  of  a  Mississippi  steamboat 
to  head  of  one  of  the  largest  banking 
institutions  in  the  world — undoubtediy 
the  largest  in  this  Western  half  of  the  world — 
seems  a  transformation  dazzling  and  dram- 
atic. But  it  was  a  gradual  one.  In  this  in- 
stance, as  in  all  others,  it  was  no  royal  road  that 
led  to  position  and  power.  The  climb  was 
a  hard  one  and  had  its  different  stages  and 
halting-places ;  by  no  single  bound  was  the  height 
reached.  Different  indeed  the  fall.  Yesterday, 
as  it  were,  looking  up,  men  wondered  ;  to-day, 


My  Vacation.  161 

looking  down,  they  stand  aghast.  For  one  of 
the  adventurous  who  then  stood  with  feet  seem- 
ingly firm  planted  high  up  the  hill,  which  so  many 
aspire  to  climb,  now  lies  a  crushed  and  shadeless 
mass  at  our  feet.  Less  far  indeed  from  top  to  bot- 
tom than  from  bottom  to  top  ;  for  the  one  journey 
years  are  necessary,  for  the  other  a  single  minute 
suffices.  It  is  very  hard  at  just  this  point  to  refrain 
from  preaching.  But  I  will.  The  corpse  found 
floating  and  drifting  about  the  bay  of  San  Fran- 
cisco has  been  dragged  ashore,  and  if  you  can 
look  upon  it  without  learning  something,  all  that 
the  ghastly  lesson  conveys,  indeed,  a  sermon 
would  but  be  thrown  away. 

William  C.  Ralston  was  the  most  restless  and 
ambitious  man  I  ever  knew,  and  among  restless 
and  ambitious  men  my  lot  has  principally  fallen. 
As  already  hinted,  his  beginning  was  an  obscure 
one.  The  precise  details  of  -his  early  life  I  do 
not  remember,  and  will  not  endeavor  to  repeat, 
though  I  have  had  them  from  his  own  lips.  But 
unless  I  much  mistake,  the  banks  of  the  Missis- 
sippi River  were  the  only  banks  with  which  he 

had  to  do  prior  to  emigrating  to  California  in  the 
ii 


1 62  My  Vacation. 

early  gold  days,  and  with  these  he  had  to  do  in 

the  capacity  of  mate — some  say  deck-hand  only 

of  a  stern-wheel  steamboat.  To  the  comparative 
lowness  of  this  starting-point,  may  we  not  attrib- 
ute that  aspiring  ambition  which  led  to  a  fall? 
For  you  may  have  noticed  that  men  born  to  a 
middle  station  in  life  plod  along  in  it  contentedly 
while  those  born  in  the  lower  level  are  scarce 
ever  satisfied  till  they  have  climbed  to  the  top  of 
the  social  shaft.  It  does  not  follow  exactly  that 
those  who  start  on  the  top  round  of  the  ladder  are 
uneasy  till  they  have  climbed  to  the  bottom,  but  it 
is  very  frequently  the  case.  In  this  matter  socie- 
ty is  like  the  ocean,  that  which  breaks  loose  from 
the  bottom  struggles  up,  and  good  ships  which 
are  launched  and  expected  to  swim  on  the  sur- 
face go  down  if  accident  knocks  a  hole  in 
them. 

Little  by  little,  Mr.  Ralston  got  on.  But  the 
more  he  got  on  the  longer  were  his  strides. 
Most  men  set  for  themselves  a  point  in  life  at 
which  to  rest  when  reached — at  least  they  say 
they  will  rest  at  it:  he  never  did.  The  only 
point  where  he  proposed  to  stop  was  when  he  had 


My  Vacation.  163 

gotten  as  far  as  he  could  go,  and  this  programme 
carried  with  it  very  few  limitations  as  you  can  wull 
imagine.  Nothing  short  of  all  could  satisfy  the 
man.  As  in  business,  so  with  pleasure.  For 
pleasure  in  itself  he  did  not  really  care — indeed, 
I  much  doubt  if  he  knew  what  it  was.  Lavish 
surroundings  contributed  little  to  his  happiness, 
but  he  maintained  the  establishment  of  a  prince. 
How  it  was  afterward,  when  railroads  came  to  be 
built,  I  do  not  know,  but  in  the  day  of  my  knowl- 
edge he  was  whirled  to  his  country  seat  by  relays 
of  horses  at  the  close  of  each  day's  business 
with  all  the  speed  and  more  of  style  than  any 
two  railroads  could  furnish.  For  horses,  as 
horses,  he  cared  very  little,  and  about  horses,  as 
horses,  he  knew  less  ;  but  his  stables  were  full  of 
the  most  famous  of  goers.  For  wine,  he  had  no- 
inordinate  fondness,  I  think,  but  down  in  his  cel- 
lars you  found  brands  which  are  commonly  sup- 
posed to  be  reserved  for  the  tables  of  royalty 
alone.  His  "  hospitality  "  was  marvellous  ;  but  I 
do  not  know  that  any  can  say  he  was  hos- 
pitable— for  there  was  so  much  of  it.  Go  to  him 
with  a  letter  of  introduction — or  without  one,  if 


164  My  Vacation. 

you  happened  to  be  an  eminent  editor,  prize- 
fighter, lawyer,  theologian,  horse-thief,  or  a  mem- 
ber of  any  one  of  the  learned  professions — and 
he  insisted  upon  you  making  his  house  your  home 
while  you  stayed,  furnishing  you  with  horses, 
steamboats,  palace  cars,  or  anything  else  you 
wanted  to  go  with  when  you  went.  Invited  down 
to  his  country-seat,  you  were  at  liberty  to  remain 
as  long  as  you  pleased,  and  perhaps  you  would 
not  see  your  host  more  than  once  during  your 
visit.  The  whole  ranche  and  all  it  contained 
were  at  your  disposal,  however,  and  if  a  man 
could  not  enjoy  himself  with  such  freedom  of 
range  as  this,  the  fault  surely  could  be  but  his 
own.  I  have  heard  it  said  that  the  Bank  of  Cal- 
ifornia allowed  him  $25,000  a  year  wherewith  to 
entertain  Eastern  visitors.  Again,  I  have  heard 
it  stated  that  no  limit  was  fixed,  but  that  a  carte 
blanche  was  given  him  to  entertain  valuable  vis- 
itors as  he  pleased,  and  that  at  the  end  of  the 
year  he  drew  for  the  total  expense  incurred.  If 
you  ask  me  which  of  these  stories  I  believe,  I  re- 
ply, without  the  least  hesitation,  Neither  ! 

You  have  heard  of  the  Bank  of  California,  of 


My  Vacation.  165 

which  William. C.  Ralston  was  President  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  perhaps.  Do  yon  know  what 
it  \v;is?  No  ?  Well,  the  Bank  of  California  was 
William  C.  Ralston.  At  the  time  of  its  organi- 
zation he  was  cashier  only,  it  is  true,  but  if  you 
suppose  that  the  President  of  a  bank  is  anything 
less  or  is  meant  to  be  anything  more  than  a  respec- 
table figure-head,  you  know  less  about  banks  in 
general,  and  New-York  banks  in  particular,  than 
one  would  suppose  possible  in  this  age  of  gener- 
al enlightenment.  As  cashier,  William  C.  Ralston 
ran  the  bank.  As  President  he  ran  the  bank. 
The  bank  he  always  was,  and  when  the  bank  no 
longer  was,  he  died — by  suicide,  some  say,  nat- 
urally enough,  say  I.  Here  you  have  the  whole 
history  of  the  bank  in  a  nut  shell.  As  for  the  di- 
rectors or  trustees,  all,  they  were  good  men  and 
rich  men  undoubtedly  ;  and  as  such  they,  in  com- 
mon with  other  stockholders,  had  an  immediate 
opportunity  of  performing  the  first  real  duties 
which  the  honorable  situation  of  stockholder  or 
director  makes  imperative,  viz.,  paying  in  a  hand- 
some assessment  to  make  their  stock  good.  Thus 
the  end  crowns  the  work,  and  perhaps  some  day 
the  day  of  dummies  will  be  done. 


1 66  My  Vacation. 

It  may  be  complained  that  I  have  written  too 
much  about  an  individual  and  too  little  about  an 
institution.  Bnt  it  was  necessary  to  tell  what  the 
one  was  in  order  to  explain  the  workings  of  the 
other.  The  bank  of  California  was  restless  and 
ambitious,  in  direct  response  to  the  characteristic 
of  its  founder.  The  two  pulses  beat  together. 
As  a  synonym  for  strength,  its  name  on  the  Paci- 
fic coast  long  ranked  next  to  that  of  the  Bank  of 
England.  As  a  power  the  Bank  of  England 
was  but  a  country  schoolmaster  in  comparison 
with  this  most  despotic  Caliph  —  locally  con- 
sidered, I  mean.  The  Bank  of  California, 
either  controlled,  or  meant  ultimately  to  gain  the 
control,  of  everything  on  the  Coast.  It  was  at 
any  time  ready  to  contract  to  take  all  the  quick- 
silver, all  the  cattle,  or  all  the  wool  that  the  coun- 
try produced.  A  small  slice  of  a  valuable  mine 
would  not  be  touched  at  any  price.  But  go  to  it 
with  a  controlling  interest  to  dispose  of,  and  you 
could  name  your  own  terms — that  is  to  say.  if  Wil- 
liam C.  Ralston  wanted  it.  Anything  that  he 
wanted  from  a  Congregational  church  to  a  moun- 
tain in  the  uttermost  wilderness  of  Nevada,  the 


My  Vacation.  167 

Bank  of  California  was  willing  to  buy  or  take  on 
deposit.  It  was  a  power  in  politics,  a  mighty 
engine  in  elections,  a  Colossus  bestriding  the 
State  as  well  as  the  mastodon  of  the  municipality 
of  San  Francisco  :  admittedly  it  controlled  the 
coast,  but  still  its  restless  arms  were  outreached 
for  further  conquest. 

Again  I  find  it  very  hard  to  refrain  from  moraliz- 
ing. But  if  you  deem  such  a  monopoly  as  the 
Bank  of  California  actually  was  (to  say  nothing  of 
what  it  threatened  to  become)  detrimental  to  the 
morals  of  a  community,  injurious  in  the  highest 
degree  to  the  welfare  of  a  State,  I'll  not  quarrel 
with  you.  If,  on  the  contrary,  you  think  such  a 
monopoly  has  ever  reared  its  head,  or  gone  on 
breathing  for  any  comfortable  length  of  time,  with 
out  getting  bowled  down  at  the  good  Lord's  ear- 
liest leisure,  you're  less  devout  than  I,  and  we'll 
say  nothing  more  about  it,  for  fear  of  getting  into 
a  theological  disputation — a  sort  of  cudgel  play 
that  should  be  avoided  in  August. 

It  never  seemed  to  me  that  William  C.  Ralston 
did  business  for  the  purpose  of  making  money 
exactly.  He  did  business  mainly  for  the  sake  of 


1 68  My  Vacation. 

doing  business,  and  this,  to  my  thinking,  is  not 
the  legitimate  end  of  business  doing.  If  the  ex- 
citement alone  is  wanted,  why  not  gamble  ?  Why 
do  business  unless  you  do  it  with  a  money  success 
in  view?  If  it's  to  come  to  the  same  thing  at 
last,  I,  for  one,  would  lie  around  in  the 
easy  attitude  of  one  who  invites  his  soul  to 
loaf  and  be  merry,  rather  than  seize  the 
greasy  reins  of  commerce  in  my  mad  grasp.  Soon- 
er far  would  I  go  charioteering  through  the  world 
in  an  ox-cart  than  driving  a  random  tandem.  So 
with  pleasure.  If  there's  no  fun  in  it,  I  dont  want 
any.  The  man  who  doesn't  like  drinking  for  its 
own  sake  is  a  fool  to  get  drunk,  and  why  should 
one  who's  not  fond  of  riding  take  the  risk  of  a 
broken  neck,  simply  because  his  next  door  neigh- 
bor jogs  round  on  horseback  ? 

William  C.  Ralston  did  not  care  enough  about 
money  to  keep  it  after  it  was  made.  What  wedded 
him  to  his  work  was  the  excitement  attendant 
upon  making  immense  trades  and  moving  mil- 
lions. As  for  keeping  the  money  he  made, that  never 
entered  his  mind — he  scattered  it  broadcast  on 
every  side.  It  was  as  though  a  man  should  pump 


My  Vacation.  169 

away  for  dear  life  and  all  the  while  have  nothing 
but  a  bottomless  vessel  to  hold  his  Dumpings — 
yes,  as  though  one  should  pump  away  with  clang 
and  noise,  but  have  never  a  valve  in  his  pump. 
Men  do  this  sometimes,  for  exercise.  But  exercise 
is  not  work.  One  must  have  a  serious  purpose 
in  view,  or  even  the  swinging  of  dumb-bells  avails 
not.  And  if  I  had  not  resolutely  resolved  to  re- 
frain from  pointing  a  moral,  I  would  say,  right 
here,  that  the  want  of  a  worthy  purpose  is  just  the 
hole  in  which  William  C.  Ralston  and  his  bank 
went  under.  But  I  prefer  that  each  reader  should 
apply  the  great  ethical  blister,  which  I  have  so 
generously  spread,  for  himself.  Place  it  where  it 
will  do  the  most  good,  please  ! 

William  C.  Ralston  was  not  a  bad  man  in  real- 
ity. True,  he  did  very  many  things  which  are 
commonly  esteemed  bad  ;  but  I  do  not  think  that 
he  put  much  heart  into  them.  There  was  little  of 
earnestness  or  vim  about  any  of  his  dissipations ; 
seeing  another  person  do  a  thing  he  thought  it 
was  the  thing  to  do,  and  there  must  be  fun  in  it 
He  never  wanted  t  o  be  counted  out  on  any  thing. 
In  a  very  similar  way  he  did  much  good.  So  did 


i  "jo  My  Vacation. 

the  Bank  of  California.  It  encouraged  many 
praiseworthy  enterprises,  developed  many  valua- 
ble industries,  lent  its  shoulder  frequently  to  public 
improvements,  where  a  banking  institution  con- 
ducted on  prudent  principles  would  have  not  lent 
a  finger.  On  one  occasion  it  even  lent  money  to 
me — is  there  need  to  say  more  ?  Then  again  the 
Bank  of  California  gave  aid  to  some  schemes 
most  outrageously  corrupt.  But  nature  in  her 
own  way  turns  most  malfeasances  to  good.  I  do 
not  know,  however,  that  in  such  cases  a  credit 
mark  goes  down  in  the  book  to  the  account  of 
individual  or  instituton,  unless  good  was  in- 
tended. 

As  for  the  financial  vista  which  this  great 
fiasco  illuminates  most  forcibly,  I'll  say  nothing. 
With  my  views  about  the  overtrading  that  not 
this  country  alone  but  the  whole  world  as  well 
have  been  given  over  to  you  are  already  familiar. 
Settling  day  is  at  hand  and  then  you'll  hear  my 
voice.  When  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  and  a 
few  other  overloaded  corporations — whose  wheels 
are  even  now  whirling  like  mad  under  a  pressure 
of  super-heated  steam  and  with  never  a  balance 


My  Vacation.  171 

wheel  to  govern  them, — fly  into  flinders  and  won- 
dering men  are  looking  round  among  the  ruins 
for  the  fragments  of  Tom  Scott,  then  perhaps 
I'll  pop  my  head  out  from  behind  a  freight 
car  and  shout ;  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  ? 

This  may  all  seem  matter  of  a  nature  too  tran- 
sitory, a  record  of  an  event  too  local,  to  warrant 
preservation  in  a  book.  But  the  man  of  whom 
I  have  written  was  a  type, — the  history  of  the 
dead  is  the  story  of  the  living,  and  I  here  record 
it  permanent  in  example  and  warning. 


172  My   Vacation. 


THE  CONFESSIONS   OF  A  REFORMED 

PLANCHETTIST. 
AM  not  wicked  ;  at  the  worst  I  am  but 
weak. 

Never  have  I  deceived  others  for  my 
own  profit,  nor  lent  myself,  even  constructively, 
to  a  fraud,  however  specious,  which  by  any  perad- 
venture  might  turn  to  my  material  account. 
The  only  cheats  which  I  remember  to  have 
practiced,  previous  to  Planchettism,  were  done 
for  amusement's  sake  alone,  when  friends  insist- 
ed on  being  tricked,  and  refused  to  be  comfort- 
ed if  they  were  not.  Under  this  category  of  in: 
nocent  impostures  I  place  the  swallowing  of  a 
carving-knife,  and  drawing  it  forth  thereafter 
with  much  flourish  from  your  left  ear  ;  putting  a 
penny  on  the  crown  of  your  head  and  driving  it 
by  a  smart  blow  down  and  through  your  body 
into  one  of  your  boots  ;  pretending  to  be  pleased 
with  a  story  or  a  casual  caller  when  really  you 


My  Vacation.  173 

are  bored  ;  and  the  like.  In  similar  manner 
each  of  us  must  confess  to  have  told  great  lies  ; 
for  the  delectation  of  little  children,  for  instance, 
inventing  tales  of  giants  and  good  men  that  nev- 
er lived  ;  building  up  on  such  chimerical  found- 
ations gorgeous  superstructures  of  heroism  and 
happiness  which  never  had  place  in  this  world. 
There  you  have  an  inkling  of  my  shortest  com- 
ings and  most  flagrant  tergiversations  until  the 
time  that  I  fledged  out  as  a  Planchettist. 

I  thus  premise  because  I  have  no  desire  to 
dispute  the  bad  pre-eminence  of  wickedness  with 
any  of  my  fellow-creatures,  no  ambition  to  be 
made  the  objective  point  of  a  special  mission. 
Fully  conscious  of  the  obliquity  to  which  I  weak- 
ly became  committed,  I  am  willing  to  atone,  so 
far  as  in  me  lies,  by  a  frank  free  and  confession. 

"  How  did  I  become  a  Planchettist  ?  "  How 
does  a  man  become  committed  to  any  evil  ca- 
reer? Insensibly  and  by  degrees,  of  course. 

No  man  clothes  himself  at  once  with  the  full 
measure  of  guilt,  as  he  would  put  on  a  ready- 
made  garment.  There  are  gentle  gradations  in 
all  iniquity.  Is  it  probable  that  Mr.  Tupper 


174  My  Vacation. 

contemplated  volumes  when  he  first  began  to 
platitudinize,  or  that  Nero  had  the  conflagration 
of  Rome  in  his  mind's  eye  when  he  laid  in  a 
Cremona  and  learned  to  riddle  ?  Certainly  when 
first  I  put  confiding  and  caressing  hands  on  the 
smooth  and  shining  back  of  Planchette,  I  had 
no  idea  of  the  dark  path  of  deception  on  which 
that  three-legged  monster  would  drag  me,  of  the 
depth  of  turpitude  into  which  I  thereby  pledged 
myself  to  plunge. 

But  perhaps  if  I  begin  at  the  beginning  I  shall 
the  sooner  get  through.  Therefore  let  me  take 
up  the  thread  of  events,  and  follow  it  out  to  its 
natural  end  in  crime  and  confusion. 

Having  occasion  for  some  alterations  in  the 
model  of  that  great  Adding  Machine  whereof 
you  may  have  heard,  I  betook  myself  to  the 
shop  of  a  maker  of  mathematical  instruments 
(and  tinker  generally)  ;  who  had  already  failed  to 
work  out  several  brilliant  ideas  of  mine — a 
fellow  possessed  of  much  talent  in  that  way. 

"  Fritz,"  quoth  I,  "  I  want  these  wheels  cut 
down  to  half  their  present  size  and  renumbered  ; 
that  spring  taken  out,  shortened,  and  given  a 


My  Vacation.  175 

different  bearing  ;  and  the  discs,  or  outer  plates, 
and  wood-work,  silvered,  gilded,  and  varnished. 
I'm  in  a  hurry,  and  must  have  it  in  an  hour." 

I  always  am  in  a  hurry  in  cases  of  the  kind? 
for  it  is  the  height  of  indiscretion  to  confess  to 
the  ingenious  mechanic  that  no  special  dispatch 
is  required,  permitting  him  to  do  things  "  in  his 
own  time."  What  is  "  time"  to  him  may  be  eter- 
nity to  you. 

"  Not  in  a  veek,"  he  made  answer. 

This  was  unexpected.  Usually  this  nimble 
artisan  was  not  over  driven  with  work,  and  the 
smallest  jobs  were  thankfully  received.  Now  he 
was  full  of  business,  independent,  and  of  course 
disposed  to  be  curt  and  rather  impertinent.  A 
week  was  out  of  the  qeustion.  What  would  ac- 
countants do  in  the  meanwhile  ?  So  I  replied 
that  such  a  delay  was  not  to  be  thought  of — day 
books  and  ledgers  were  not  to  be  trifled  with — 
and  that  I  should  be  compelled  to  trust  myself 
and  it  to  the  hands  of  some  workman,  less  skil- 
ful, perhaps,  but  more  mindful  of  the  interest  of 
early  benefactors.  (It  is  always  well  to  take  high 
moral  ground  on  such  occasions).  But  I  had 


176  My  Vacation. 

the  curiosity  to  ask  what  he  was  making  that 
busied  him  so. 

"  Pentagraph  wheels,"  he  said. 

Well,  I  left  his  shop  and  went  on  a  voyage  of 
discovery  among  artificers  in  brass  and  workers 
in  wood  ;  but  with  the  most  indifferent  success. 
Very  few  could  comprehend  the  machine  at  all, 
to  the  beautiful  intricacies  of  its  wheels  and  re- 
volving discs  most  of  them  were  blind  as  owls 
to  the  sun.  One  to  whom  I  applied  said  he  did 
nothing  in  the  circular-saw  business  ;  another  in- 
formed me  that  I'd  find  a  maker  and  mender  of 
music-boxes  somewhere  in  Maiden  Lane.  The 
few  who  could  make  head  or  tail  of  the  machine 
mentioned  in  the  outset  that  a  cash  deposit  on 
work  was  always  expected  of  strangers,  and  this 
of  course  cut  off  further  conversation.  So  at  the 
end  of  the  week  I  again  sought  Fritz. 

But  he  now  could  not  work  me  the  desired  al- 
terations inside  of  a  month ;  he  was  still  making 
pentagraph  wheels. 

It  seemed  strange  to  me  there  should  be  so 
sudden  a  demand  for  such  wheels  and  I  asked 
what  they  were  for. 


My  Vacation.  177 

"  To  put  on  a  writing-machine,"  he  said ; 
"  something  newly  invented." 

Ah,  thought  I,  a  writing-machine  ;  here,  then, 
is  an  invention  nearly  as  important  as  mine,  and 
more  adapted,  perhaps,  to  the  popular  need. 
Horace  Greeley  will  want  one ;  Sam  Bowles 
must  be  supplied  j  and  I  called  to  mind  a  host 
of  other  eminent  caligraphists  whose  pleasure  in 
the  invention  would  only  be  equalled  by  that  of 
the  miserable  creatures  who  were  obliged  to  read 
their  manuscripts.  I  inquired  where  the  machines 
were  to  be  seen,  and  very  soon  thereafter  was 
on  my  way  to  the  store  of  a  dealer  in  stationery, 
writing-desks,  and  other  portable  property. 

On  entering  I  inqured  for  a  writing-machine. 

"  A  what,  Sir  ?  " 

I  explained,  and  gave  my  authority  for  suppos- 
ing there  was  such  a  thing  extant  and  there  for 
sale, 

"Oh,  Planchette;  yes,  yes,  Sir.  Please  step 
this  way ;"  and  I  was  ushered  to  the  back  part 
of  the  store. 

There  I  found  Planchette  lying  in  wait  foi 
whom  he  might  devour.  He  was  a  brown-look- 


178  My  Vacation. 

ing  little  familiar,  made  of  wood,  and  mounted 
on  two  pentagraph  wheels,  a  lead-pencil  forming 
his  third  leg  ;  he  looked  as  if  he  might  bite,  and 
had  an  uncanny  air  about  him  generally.  Inquir- 
ing, What  is  this  mystery  ?  I  was  informed  that 
on  two  persons  placing  their  hands  upon  the  fel- 
low's back,  and  a  question  being  asked,  he  would 
soon  begin  to  wriggle  about  (like  a  crab  in  the 
sand),  and  write  an  intelligible  if  not  an  intelli- 
gent answer  with  his  plumbaginous  tail. 

In  response  to  my  look  of  incredulity  came  an 
.nvitation  to  put  my  hand  on  with  the  young  man 
of  the  store.  I  did  so,  and  asked  the  time  of 
day. 

"  Five  minutes  past  four,"  was  written.  This, 
however,  did  not  surprise  me,  as  there  was  a 
clock  on  the  wall,  visible  to  my  fellow-operator 
as  well  as  to  Planchette. 

Other  persons — mostly  ladies — came  in  to  pur- 
chase Planchettes.  There  was  an  immense  rush 
for  them,  and  I  understood  how  the  whole  town 
came  to  be  making  pentagraph  wheels.  While 
they  were  being  waited  on  I  amused  myself  by 
reading  a  descriptive  pamphlet,  republished  from 


My  Vacation.  179 

an  article  in  some  English  periodical.  This  re- 
lated so  many  marvels  of  the  thing  that  my  curi- 
osity became  excited  to  experiment  with  one  at  my 
leisure :  but  still  so  incredulous  was  I  of  the 
powers  imputed  to  it  that  I  scarcely  felt  like  pur- 
chasing one  out  and  out.  However,  a  comprom- 
ise was  finally  reached  by  my  making  a  deposit 
of  the  price,  with  the  proviso  that  if  it  failed  to 
write  things  my  money  should  be  retuned. 

A  label  on  Planchette's  belly  set  forth  the 
most  favorable  conditions  of  getting  its  back  up 
for  the  work.  It  was  advised  that  the  operators 
be  "  opposite  sexes,  if  possible,  and  of  different 
complexions."  Not  deeming  it  impossible  to 
find  an  opposite  in  sex  to  aid  in  the  investiga- 
tions, I  started  off  with  Planchette  under  my  coat. 
I  must  confess  that  I  was  not  altogether  at  my 
ease  while  carrying  him  thus,  for  if  all  the  pam- 
phlet set  forth  were  true,  there  certainly  was 
something  impish,  if  not  demoniacal,  about  the 
fellow.  I  fancied  that  he  squirmed  in  my  em- 
brace, and  I  knew  not  but  that  in  another  mo- 
ment he  might  be  tearing  with  teeth  and  claws 
at  my  vitals.  I  thought  of  the  Spartan  boy  and 


180  My  Vacation. 

his  fox.  But  I  bore  him  bravely  on,  and  once 
at  home  took  care  to  guard  against  his  escape 
or  any  untoward  demonstration  by  locking  him 
securely  into  an  oaken  clothes-press. 

That  evening  I  went  out  to  call,  taking  Plan- 
chette  with  me.  It  was  a  lady  exactly  my  op- 
posite, not  only  in  complexion  but  (I  regret  to 
say)  in  disposition,  whom  we  went  to  see  ;  and  I 
said  to  myself  that  now,  if  ever,  some  remarkably 
quick  stepping  would  be  done  by  this  fantas- 
tic courser.  The  lady  at  first  thought  I  had 
brought  her  a  new-fangled  cribbage-board  ;  but 
I  explained,  and  with  some  fear  and  tremb. 
ling -(she  had  read  the  pamphlet  meanwhile)  we 
placed  our  hands  as  directed,  and  waited  events. 
For  a  full  hour  we  sat,  but  beyond  a  few  false 
starts  and  convulsive  wriggles,  caused  by  our 
nervous  tremors,  there  was  no  movement  on  its 
part.  Questions  the  easiest  of  solution  we  ask- 
ed, but  no  answer  came.  Did  it  rain?  (it  was 
nining) ;  what  time  was  it  ?  (there  stood  the 
clock)  :  we  asked  it  every  thing,  except,  perhaps, 
would  saltpetre  explode  ;  but  it  stood  still,  obstin- 
ate as  a  mule.  Others  came  in  presently — of  op- 


My  Vacation.  181 

posite  sexes  and  complexions — and  they  tried 
their  hands,  with  equal  powerlessness  to  produce 
any  satisfactory  result.  In  short,  owing  to  the 
refractory  behavior  of  Planchette,  we  spent  a 
very  stupid  evening,  staring  and  blinking  into 
each  other's  eyes  over  his  back ;  and  when  I 
packed  him  off  home  that  evening  it  was  with  a 
full  resolve  never  again  to  introduce  him  into 
good  society. 

Next  morning  on  my  way  down  town  I  dropped 
in  at  the  Planchette  depot,  and  reported  the  fail- 
ure of  my  experiment,  by  way  of  preparing  the 
proprietor  to  receive  an  addition  of  one  to  his 
stock.  That  gentleman,  however,  assured  me 
that  I  would  yet  find  some  one  for  whom  Plan- 
chette would  write  :  that  he  would  return  the 
money  (and  he  did,  there  and  then),  but  he  really 
wished  I  would  keep  the  board,  and  see  what 
came  of  it.  This  was  fair  enough,  no  extraordi- 
nary risk  was  involved,  and  I  accepted  the 
terms. 

That  evening  I  was  out  visiting  again,  and 
happened  to  mention  Planchette.  The  ladies 
present  became  so  much  interested  (in  what  the 


1 82  My  Vacation. 

pamphlet  said  of  him  :  I  denounced  him  un- 
measuredly),  and  expressed  so  much  faith  in  his 
good  behavior  in  proper  hands,  that  I  sent  for 
him  to  be  brought  into  the  presences,  willing  to 
give  him  a  chance  of  redeeming  his  reputation. 

He  was  brought  and  planted  on  the  table* 
with  a  large  sheet  of  paper  to  make  it  easy  for 
his  feet.  Scarcely  had  their  hands  touched  him 
when  off  he  started  like  a  mud-turtle  (of  which 
he  was  the  mild  simulacrum)  with  a  coal  of  fire  on 
its  back.  He  raced  round  like  a  quarter-horse, 
describing  the  most  eccentric  curves  and  angles, 
writing  names,  and  occasionally  lashing  out  with 
his  legs  as  though  he  had  just  found  them.  Fresh 
from  pasture,  he  evidently  for  the  first  time  felt 
his  oats.  So  comical  was  it  all  that  for  the  life 
of  me  I  could  not  forbear  laughing,  which  rather 
provoked  one  of  the  ladies,  who  inclined  to  take 
the  thing  in  quite  a  serious  part. 

At  first  starting  off  it  scribbled  scriptural  text 
glibly  ;  but  when  asked  what  influence  moved  it, 
wrote  "Humbug."  This  flippant  answer  was 
attributed  to  the  malign  inspiration  of  my  mirth, 
and  I  was  soundly  rated  therefor  ;  but  while  the 


My  Vacation.  183 

chiding  was  going  on  it  got  an  idea  of  its  own  and 
wrote  "  Nonsense."  There  upon  my  attention  was 
called  to  the  fact  that  I  was  visibly  reproved  by 
some  unseen  disciplinarian,  to  which  suggestion 
I  replied  that  it  was  not  quite  clear  to  my  mind 
that  I  was  the  person  admonished,  and  counsel" 
led  that  the  question  be  put  to  Planchette. 

Asked  who  was  talking  nonsense,  the  sensible 
board  (or  Faculty)  at  once  wrote  the  name  of  the 
lady  who  was  taking  me  to  task. 

Asked  who  was  the  most  nonsensical  person  in 
the  room,  it  wrote  the  name  of  a  little  girl  asleep 
in  the  adjoining  apartment — who,  however,  so 
far  from  being  sillier  than  any  person  in  the 
room,  would  really  have  merite  I  being  written 
clown  as  the  brightest  of  all,  had  she  been  pres- 
ent. Probably  she  was  "  picked  upon  "  because 
absent  and  asleep.  This  trait  and  similar  ones 
show  conclusively  that  Planchette's  is  the  femi- 
nine gender  :  but  I  treat  it  indifferently  as  mas- 
culine and  neuter  for  convenience'  sake. 

A  note  was  brought  me  relative  to  the  post, 
ponement  of  a  little  party  which  was  on  the  tapis. 
I  put  it  in  my  pocket.  Planchette  was  asked 


184  My  Vacation. 

what  the  gentleman,  had  In  his  pocket.  The 
wretch  wrote,  "  A*  love-letter,"  which  necessitat- 
ed my  reading  the  message  aloud,  in  order  to 
clear  myself  from  a  base  and  unworthy  suspi- 
cion. 

And  so  on  the  evening  through,  by  no  accident 
hitting  the  truth  in  any  answer,  until,  when 
breaking-up  time  came,  the  question  was  asked  ; 
"  Now,  Planchette,  after  all  this  frippery,  what 
serious,  earnest  message  have  you  for  us  to  re- 
tire on  ? " 

"  Do  not  believe  in  this,"  it  wrote,  smoothly 
as  could  one  of  those  chaps  who  hang  round  ho- 
tels doing  your  name  in  fine  Italian  characters 
on  visiting-cards  for  a  living. 

I  was  staggered  in  my  disbelief — nay,  more, 
I  was  all  but  convinced.  The  answers  given, 
though  wide  of  the  truth,  were  in  all  cases  the 
very  replies  which  one  would  suppose  the  opera- 
tors would  not  write  if  they  had  their  way  about 
it.  /was  the  one  to  be  rapped  over  the  knuckles 
and  reprimanded  for  nonsense  if  "  larks"  was 
the  game ;  and  u  Don't  believe  in  this"  was 
scarcely  the  message  that  would  be  chosen  to 


My  Vacation.  185 

convince  a  skeptic — at  least  it  so  seemed  at  first 
thought. 

I  didn't  feel  quite  easy  at  having  Planchette 
for  a  room-fellow  that  night.  I  started  several 
times,  expecting*  to  find  him  scratching  about 
and  endeavoring  to  climb  into  bed  with  me.  I 
would  rather  have  taken  up  with  a  bug. 

Should  a  man  share  his  bed  with  his  board 
after  making  it  a  point  all  his  life  to  never  take 
the  two  together  ? 

The  mania  spread,  the  air  became  full  of 
Planchettes.  Wherever  you  went  a  board  was 
brought  out  as  soon  as  the  lamps  were  lit ;  the 
soft  blandishments  of  music  gave  place  to  its 
presence,  and  conversation  ceased.  The  baleful 
dissipation  became  universal.  Strangely  enough, 
however,  though  the  thing  would  write  for  others, 
it  would  not  for  the  lady  to  whom  I  first  intro- 
duced it  and  me.  It  seemed  as  though  it  Owed 
me  a  grudge  for  taking  it  out  in  the  rain 
on  that  occasion.  With  one  or  two  of  her  acquaint- 
ance she  would  put  her  hands  on,  and  it  walked 
the  table  like  a  thing  of  life ;  but  for  me  it 
wouldn't  stir  a  peg.  Though  we  sat  dumbly  for 


i 


1 86  My  Vacation. 

hours,  mutely,  almost  prayerfully,  invoking  the 
mesmeric  influences,  until  our  arms  were  near- 
ly paralyzed  by  the  inaction,  never  a  line  would 
the  pencil  trace.  This  puzzled  me,  for  it  was  my 
strong  impression  that  we  had  about  as  much 
snap  and  spirituality  about  us  as  most  folks. 
As  for  me  individually,  if  I  put  my  hands  on 
with  another  it  would  either  not  move  at  all,  or 
else  in  a  disgustingly  feeble  manner,  suggestive 
of  weak  joints.  At  last  I  declined  to  make  any 
further  attempts  (feeling  rather  mortified  at  my 
frequent  failures,  if  the  truth  must  be  told).  One 
evening,  however,  a  distinguished  PlanchettLst 
being  present,  under  whose  hands  the  board  was 
galloping  about  like  mad,  I  thought  I  saw  a  key 
to  the  situation.  For  experiment's  sake  I  re- 
quested the  lady  who  was  seated  with  him  to  let 
me  make  one  final  trial.  She  assented,  and  gave 
me  her  place.  The  other  party  seemed  not  over- 
delighted  at  the  change  (  not  unnatural),  but  made 
no  objection.  Planchette  was  dumb  under  the  in- 
fliction for  a  momentj  but  at  length  began  weak- 
ly to  discourse.  My  hands  are  not  as  light  as  a 
lady's,  and  I  was  determined  that  if  physical  force 


My  Vacation.  187 

were  used  I  would  compel  the  exertion  of  suffi- 
cient to  be  visible.  Before  the  first  sentence  was 
written  I  was  satisfied — the  thing  had  written  its 
own  sentence,  in  my  mind,  so  far  as  any  claim  up- 
on the  credulity  of  mankind  was  concerned.  The 
working  of  the  digital  muscles  was  palpable,  and 
it  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that,  instead  of  en- 
deavoring to  get  away  from  under  the  operator's 
fingers,  as  would  have  been  the  case  were  the 
motion  in  the  board,  it  simply  followed  their 
guidance,  or  took  the  line  in  which  it  was  driv- 
en. Planchette  stood  revealed  to  me  as  a  very 
tame  monster  after  all. 

Theretofore  in  discussions  with  a  few  unbe- 
lievers of  nay  acquaintance,  who  scouted  my  cred- 
ulity in  believing  that  any  thing  else  than  trick- 
ery underlaid  the  Planchettic  cipher,  I  waxed 
quite  wroth,  and  denounced  them  as  idiots.  Eve- 
ning after  evening  I  had  sat  (like  a  bump  on  a 
log)  while  the  fiery,  untamed  steed,  manipulated 
by  others,  went  careering  on  its  three  legs  over 
realms  of  thought  and  reams  of  paper,  furnish- 
ing a  fund  of  amusement  for  whole  house- 
holds. On  those  occasions  I  was  not  openly  up- 


1 88  My  Vacation. 

braided  for  my  impotency,  but  I  knew  that 
secretly  I  was  looked  upon  as  a  noodle  of  too 
fleshly  and  earthly  a  nature  to  evoke  and  control 
the  subtler  essences  which  abound  in  wood  and 
such  things,  and  the  knowledge  was  not  pleasent. 

Is  it  necessary  for  me  to  anticipate  by  declar- 
ing that  "the  next  sitting  to  which  I  was  bid  I 
suddenly  developed  stupendous  powers,  and 
stood  revealed  as  the  Planchettist  of  the  Period  ? 

It  is  now  that  my  confessions  properly  begin, 
but  the  prelude  was  not  uncalled  for,  insomuch 
as  I  wished  to  illustrate  how  a  man  is  occasion- 
ally driven  into  crime  in  self-defense. 

My  career  from  this  time  forth  was  an  em- 
inently successful  one.  In  my  hands  Planchette, 
when  he  failed  to  answer  truthfully,  told  such 
outrageous  lies  that  it  was  at  once  seen  that 
some  evil  spirit  was  behind  him.  There  were 
no  half-statements,  no  hamstrung  declarations 
concerning  anything  past,  present,  or  to  come; 
he  hesitated  at  nothing.  Sometimes,  indeed,  he 
would  skate  around  and  draw  maps  of  unknown 
continents,  but  once  started  to  write,  and  it  was 
certain  the  questioner  would  get  all  and  more 


My  Vacation.  189 

than  he  wanted  to  know,  and  as  for  my  fingers 
being  seen  to  move — trust  me  for  that.  From 
Planchetting  one  might  turn  to  pocket-picking 
easily,  and  with  no  other  preliminary  practice. 

We  generally  satisfied  our  audiences — Plan- 
chette  and  I.  First  I  practiced  on  the  friend  of 
mine  already  mentioned ;  when  it  became  evi- 
dent that  she,  knowing  my  previous  powerless- 
ness  to  move  the  board,  received  my  sudden  de- 
velopment with  faith  and  did  not  suspect  me,  it 
seemed  clear  that  no  one  else  would  and  in  the 
wickedness  of  my  heart  I  went  forth  conquering 
and  to  conquer. 

Did  I  have  no  shame,  no  compunctions  of  con- 
science ?  you  will  ask.  No",  not  a  compunction : 
once  mounted  on  Planchette  and  one  would  gal- 
lop headlong  whither  a  beggar  on  horseback  is 
reputed  to  ride  ;  caring  as  little  for  who  or  what 
one  rode  over  as  a  witch  on  her  broomstick. 
Contact  with  him  acted  like  the  touch  of  an  en- 
chanter's wand,  transforming  honest  men  into 
tricksters,  and  turning  them  loose  on  society 
prepared  to  practice,  if  need  be,  on  their  own 
mothers. 


190  My  Vacation. 

You  doubt  the  latter  statement,  but  of  that 
anon. 

I  improved  on  the  jtactics  of  the  general  run  of 
Planchetists.  They  were  always  eager  to  perform; 
I  affected  reluctance.  They  would  decipher 
scrawls  which  no  one  else  could  read,  making 
out  a  complete  sentence  where  it  was  utterly  im- 
possible to  distinguish  a  single  letter,  and  won- 
dering at  persons'  obtusity.  I,  on  the  contrary, 
was  the  last  to  unravel  the  communication,  and 
insisted  on  Planchette's  rewriting  it  even  after 
all  others  were  confident  that  they  had  the  right 
interpretation.  I  discovered,  too,  that  it  was  easy 
to  write  upside  down,  or  from  right  to  left,  so 
that  a  looking-glass  was  necessary  to  enable  one 
to  read  the  message.  In  fact,  I  evidenced  a 
capacity  for  guile  which  at  this  distance  surprises 
me,  and  certainly  the  possession  of  any  latent 
talent  of  the  kind  was  before  unsuspected  in  me 
by  others. 

As  an  instance  of  how  we  did  things — Plan- 
chette  and  I — one  Sunday  afternoon,  at  the  house 
of  a  friend,  the  board  was  brought  out.  Would 
I  put  my  hands  on  it,  ?  No,  I  had  rather  not, 


My  Vacation.  191 

it  took   all   the  magnetism   out  of  me,  and  the. 
weather  in   itself  was    sufficiently  prostrating. 
But  there  was  no  escape,  and  at  last  I  reluctant- 
ly consented,  a  lady  assisting. 

Addressing  ourselves  to  the  inhospitable  board 
it  forthwith  began  to  circle  about  and  gyrate  as 
if  possessed.  Asked  what  power  was  present, 
it  promptly  wrote  "  the  devil." 

"  But  has  not  Mr.  Andrews"  (a  lawyer  for 
whose  edification  the  board  was  brought  out) 
"  any  friends  here  ?  " 

"  Yes  ? " 

"  Who ! " 

«  j  i> 

"  Why  are  you  a  friend  of  Mr.  Andrews  ? " 

"  Because  he  is  one  of  mine." 

"  Has  he  ever  served  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  ? " 

"  What  in  ?  " 

"  In  law. " 

"  Have  you  ever  served  him  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  in  ?  " 

"  In  law." 


1 92  My  Vacation, 

"  Were  you  at  church  this  morning  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  At  whose  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Frothingham's." 

"  How  did  you  like  him  ? " 

"  First-rate." 

"  Has  Mr.  Andrews — no  other  friends  here  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  ? " 

"Theodore." 

"  King  of  Abyssinia  ?  " 

"No;  Parker." 

"  Did  he  go  to  church  this  morning  ?  " 

"Ask  him.     I'm  going  away  now." 

And  the  board  went  to  skating  again.  As 
soon  as  it  became  comparatively  composed  the 
question  was  asked  : 

"  Did  you  go  to  church  this  morning,  Mr. 
Parker  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Whose  ? " 

"Mr.  Frothingham's." 

"  How  did  you  like  him  ?  " 

"N:>t  altogether." 


My  Vacation.  193 

"  What  fault  do  you  find  with  him  ?  What 
hint  would  you  like  to  give  for  him  to  act  upon  ?  " 

"  He  is  too  bold,  too  outspoken." 

"  But  you  used  to  be  pretty  bold  and  out- 
spoken yourself,  Mr.  Parker.  Why  do  you  com- 
plain of  him  ?  " 

"  I'm  wiser  now." 

"  Should  not  the  truth  be  spoke  openly  and . 
boldly  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all  times,  and  not  to  all  people." 

"  To  whom  should  the  truth  not  be  spoken  ?  " 

"  The  ignorant — the  many." 

"  What  are  you  doing  up  there  ?  " 

"  Improving." 

w  Will  you  tell  us  how  to  improve  here  ? " 

"  No  ;  I  must  go." 

"  Where  must  you  go  ?  " 

"To  hell." 

"  What  are  you  going  there  for  ?  * 

"  To  preach." 

"  Do  you  always  hold  services  there  on  Sun- 
days ? " 

"  Of  afternoons." 

"  Where  do  you  preach  in  the  forenoon  ? " 


194  My  Vacation. 

"At  Yarmouth." 

(The  expert  Planchettist  will  always  have  cer- 
tain stock  words  and  phrases  to  fall  back  upon 
when  hurried  or  puzzled.  Thus,  when  asked 
who  was  writing,  I  found  it  always  safe  to  quote 
Beelzebub — he  being  fair  game  for  everybody. 
When  at  a  loss  for  an  answer  to  a  question,  I 
wrote,  "  We  never,  never  tell ; "  and  the  name 
of  a  place  being  hurriedly  required,  gave  them 
"  Yarmouth,"  as  about  the  unlikeliest  town  for 
any  thing  but  a  bloater  to  come  from.) 

I  reproduce  these  questions  and  answers  mere- 
ly to  show  how  absurd  the  latter  seem  on  paper. 
But  as  written  for  the  eager  inquirers  who  con- 
ducted the  investigation  the  answers  were  a  suc- 
cess, evoking  running  comments  of  "  How  like 
Theodore  Parker,"  etc. 

It  is  strange  indeed,  how  accident  will  often 
come  to  the  aid  of  imposition.  As  instance 
in  point :  One  evening  a  lady,  who  was  scarcely 
satisfied  with  the  answers  she  had  received,  said 
she  would  like  to  apply  another  test,  and  request- 
ed that  Planchette  would  write  the  woi  d  she  had 
then  in  her  mind. 


My  Vacation.  195 

With  scarcely  a  moment's  pause  we  dashed 
off  "  Sorosis." 

"Well,  that  is  wonderful,"  she  cried.  "I 
didn't  believe  much  in  it  before,  but  that  is  con- 
vincing ! "  And  it  was  rather  a  staggerer,  if  I 
do  say  it  who  shouldn't ;  but  there  was  nothing 
very  wonderful  about  it,  after  all.  Something 
had  been  said  about  that  remarkable  club  a  few 
moments  before :  and  I  observed  that  the  lady 
knitted  her  brows  as  though  the  knotty  word 
took  hold  of  her  sharply,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  her  mind  might  be  dwelling  on  it  then. 

Another  case  in  point —  but  an  explanation 
first.  My  mother  happened  to  be  visiting  in 
town ;  she  had  heard  of  Planchette,  and  of  my 
proficiency  thereat,  and  was  desirous  of  seeing 
it  write.  Now  what  was  I  to  do  ?  I  certainly 
did  not  wish  to  upset  the  dear  old  lady's  pre- 
conceived notion  of  things,  scatter  her  faith  to 
the  winds,  to  the  detriment  of  Moses  and  the 
prophets,  and  turn  her  a  drift  on  a  sea  of  spec- 
ulation as  to  the  relations  between  mind  and 
matter,  with  neither  compass  nor  rudder;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  wouldn't  do  to  confess  that 


196  My  Vacation. 

I — her  first-born  and  her  best-beloved — was  a 
cheating  juggler.  So  I  temporized,  and  put  the 
exhibition  off.  This  was  quite  as  bad,  however ; 
she  had  come  down  to  the  city  to  see  what  was 
going  on,  and  my  backwardness  laid  me  open  to 
a  charge  of  unkindness  in  thus  hiding  my  spirit- 
ual candle  under  a  metaphorical  bushel.  So  one 
evening  Planchette  and  I  put  in  an  appearance. 

My  good  mother  planted  her  spectacles^  the 
big-bowed  ones  ( when  she  mounts  those  she 
means  business),  and  prepared  to  catechise.  No 
theological  abstractions  did  she  propound,  no 
trivial  questions  put  she,  but  practical  ones — 
concerning  things  about  which  she  really  wished 
to  know,  and  by  which  her  movements  in  a  mea- 
sure were  to  be  governed.  A  grand-daughter 
had  appointed  to  meet  her  at  an  interior  town 
during  one  of  the  summer  months,  and  she  in- 
quired whether  the  young  lady  would  be  there. 

A  very  large  and  distinct  "  No." 

"  Why,  Planchette,  that  can  not  be  ;  I  have  a 
letter  from  her  in  my  pocket,  and  she  promises 
to  meet  me  in  July." 

"  She  won't,"  reiterated  Planchette,  and  re- 
fused all  further  explanation  on  that  head. 


My  Vacation.  197 

The  next  inquiry  was  when  a  younger  son 
would  be  on  from  the  West. 

"  On  the  22<i  "  was  written. 

"  He  is  coming  on  the  i5th,  I  know,  for  he 
wrote  me  so.  Will  I  go  West  with  him  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  as  she  wiped  her 
spectacles  and  carefully  put  them  away,  "  my 
opinion,  Planchette,  is  that  you  are  a  great  hum- 
bug. But  we  shall  see." 

Sure  enough  we  did  see.  Next  day,  if  I  re- 
member rightly,  came  a  letter  from  the  young 
lady  regretting  that  she  could  not  meet  her 
grandmamma  at  the  time  and  place  proposed, 
and  making  an  appointment  for  a  meeting  else- 
where later  in  the  summer.  My  brother  arrived 
on  the  22d  ;  and  the  old  lady  did  not  return 
with  him  to  Kansas.  All  came  true  as  a  book. 
But  'twas  simply  because  of  shrewd  guessing. 
On  general  principles  I  assumed  that — setting 
aside  in  this  instance  that  feminine  fidelity  to 
engagements  which  has  passed,  into  a  proverb — 
a  young  lady  enjoying  the  cool  delights  of  a  Can- 
adian borough  would  scarcely  feel  like  travelling 


198  My  Vacation. 

several  hundred  miles  by  rail  to  an  unattractive 
village  in  the  dog-days.  I  knew  my  brother  had 
written  that  he  would  be  East  on  the  i5th,  but 
as  he  was  never  less  than  a  week  behindhand  I 
thought  it  safe  to  average  him  down  to  that  and 
record  it.  As  for  the  good  old  lady's  travelling 
through  Kansas  with  the  Indian  war-whoop 
sounding  from  its  borders  to  our  distant  doors 
I  argued  that  if  she  made  herself  party  to  such  a 
pleasure-trip  at  her  time  of  life  she  would  display 
a  want  of  sagacity  incompatible  with  the  fact  of 
her  being  the  mother  of  Yours  Truly. 

But  the  case  immediately  in  point,  referred  to 
as  illustrating  how  accident  singularly  comes 
times  to  bolster  up  imposture,  is  this  :  After  the 
family  exhibition  just  mentioned,  nothing  would 
do  but  that  Planchette  and  myself  should  per- 
form'for  the  proselytism  of  an  old  gentleman 
over  the  way — a  confirmed  and  avowed  dis- 
believer in  Planchettism,  notwithstanding  the 
stubborn  facts  she  narrated.  Hopeless  as 
the  task  seemed,  I  undertook  it  with  a  deter- 
mination worthy  of  a  better  cause,  and,  with 
Planchette  under  my  arm  ( some  on  the  boat 


My  Vacation.  199 

thought  I  was  carrying  a  patent  life-preser- 
ver), we  made  the  perilous  passage  to  Brooklyn. 

On  inquiring  for  Mr.  Rawdon  we  were  told 
he  was  up  stairs,  writing,  but  would  be  down 
^presently.  So  Planchette  and  I  passed  the  in- 
terim pleasantly  in  writing  stupendous  fictions 
for  the  children.  (I  carried  no  confederate 
with  me  ;  all  were  gudgeons  that  came  to  my 
net ;  in  all  instances  the  assistant  was  innocent.) 
By-and-by  Mr.  Rawdon  made  his  appearance, 
and  taking  his  turn  at  questioning,  inquired  what 
he  had  been  doing.  We  replied,  "  Writingletters." 

"  What  kind  of  letters  ;  to  whom  ?  " 

Unable  to  hit  any  where  near  the  truth,  we 
set  out  to  come  the  old  dodge,  and  write  a 
whopper,  something  monstrously  and  funnily  (all 
circumstances  considered)  improbable. 

We  wrote  "  Love-letters  ; "  plainly  enough,  it 
seemed  to  me.  Our  host  bent  over  to  look,  and 
kwe  expected  a  snort  of  indignation  at  the  bare- 
faced impudence  of  the  answer.  To  our  sur- 
prise, on  the  contrary,  his  face  flushed,  and  he 
said,  seriously,  '•'  Well,  that  is  very  strange,  in 
deed  ;  it  has  written  the  name  of  my  correspond- 


200  My  Vacation. 

ent  in  Brazil,  and  I  do  not  think  any  bodj  pres- 
ent but  myself  knew  it." 

Certainly  I  did  not,  nor  do  I  to  this  day,  but 
I  simply  said  to  the  three-legged,  Steady,  old 
fellow,  and  thought  what  a  good  thing  'twas 
that  a  sweet  little  cherub  sat  up  aloft  to  watch 
o'er  the  fate  of  Planchette  !  Was  there  not  con- 
clusive proof  in  this  of  its  supernatural  powers  ? 
One  of  the  beauties  of  the  game,  let  me  remark, 
was  the  fact  that  the  chirography  generally  was  so 
illegible  that  a  large  margin  wasoffered  for  spec- 
ulation and  the  questioner,  seeing  some  slight 
resemblance  in  what  was  written  to  the  proper 
answer,  took  it  for  granted  that  it  had  been  writ- 
ten, and  was  satisfied  and  surprised. 

When  persons  want  to  be  humbugged  it  is 
very  easy  to  please  them.  I  remember  one  eve- 
ning Planchette  was  asked  the  name  of  the 
young  lady  with  whom  a  young  man  around  the 
board  was  in  love.  We  started  to  write  some- 
thing immediately,  on  the  theory  that  those  v/ho 
hesitate  are  lost ;  but  the  big-fisted  fellow  who 
had  hands  on  with  me  bore  so  hardly  that  we 
could  make  no  headway  at  all,  and  beyond  a 


My  Vacation.  201 

few  feeble  kicks  and  struggles  could  not  get 
without  exciting  unpleasant  suspicions.  The 
paper  showed  a  crampta  tracery  which  looked 
like  the  pattern  of  a  lace  collar  quite  as  much  as 
any  thing  else,  but  it  was  at  once  unanimously 
declared  that  the  funny  monster  had  drawn  the 
profile  of  John's  Dulcinea ! 

One  of  the  strangest  things  about  it  all  was  that 
the  operator  after  a  while  came  to  half  believe 
in  the  honesty  of  the  performance  himself,  get- 
ting really  angry  at  having  the  genuineness 
of  his  messages  questioned.  Several  times  have 
I  got  up  from  the  table  in  an  indignation  which 
was  by  no  means  altogether  feigned,  on  being 
suspected  or  too  closely  pressed  with  questions 
as  to  my  agency  in  the  matter  of  writing.  I  had 
a  way,  however,  of  making  the  seat  of  the  scorn- 
ful so  warm  for  him  that  he  did  not  care  to  oc- 
cupy it  long,  and  rarely  gibed  a  second  time. 
'Tis  mournful,  however,  when  one  becomes  in- 
sensible to  his  own  wickdness,  and  assumes  an 
air  of  injured  innocence  when  good  missionaries 
in  gros  grain  and  watered  silks,  remonstrate 
with  him.  What  the  end  would  have  been,  where 


202  My  Vacation. 

I  would  have  eventually  brought  up,  had  I  not 
been  arrested  in  my  evil  career,  I  do  not  know, 
and  can  hardly  bear  to  contemplate.  I  might 
now  be  a  long-haired  spiritualist,  coaxing  weak 
raps  out  of  my  shuddering  knee-pans,  or  throw- 
ing tables,  chairs,  and  spittoons  about  the  room 
in  the  name  of  loved  ones  "  not  lost,  but  gone 
before." 

It  was  the  frequent  necessity  of  practicing 
upon  near  and  dear  friends  that  first  aroused  my 
slumbering  conscience  and  prompted  me  to  re- 
formation. My  good  mother,  for  instance,  was 
so  pleased  with  Planchette  that  she  requested 
me  to  buy  her  one,  that  she  might  have  it  ever 
ready  to  her  elbow7  as  guide,  counsellor,  and 
friend.  From  that  dilemma,  though,  I  extricat- 
ed myself  rather  ingeniously  by  leading  her  to 
ask  what  or  who  moved  the  board,  and  writing 
in  answer,  in  big,  staring  letters,  "  THE  DEVIL  !  " 

"  Why  the  wicked  thing !  I  declare  !  Take 
it  away,  Charles  !  "  and  she  raised  her  hands  be- 
fore her  face  to  shut  out  the  sight  of  so  hateful  a 
monster.  Never  afterward  did  she  want  a  Plan- 
chette, nor  could  I  persuade  her  to  consult  it 


My  Vacation.  203 

even  in  secret.  "  To  think  of  its  swearing ! " 
she  said. 

But  there  were  others  less  timorous  ;  one  lady 
in  particular,  a  valued  friend  of  mine,  who  in 
early  life  had  lost  a  dear  sister.  This  lady  insis- 
ted on  asking  serious  questions,  and  endeavoring 
to  penetrate  the  veil  between  the  seen  and  the 
unseen  world.  She  wished  some  communication 
from  the  dead.  It  was  in  vain  that  I  sought  to 
turn  the  tide  of  investigation  by  writing  the  most 
absurd  things,  and  announcing  the  presence  and 
readiness  to  be  questioned  of  Belial,  Brown  or 
Belisarius.  With  a  persistency  not  to  be  baffled 
she  would  return  to  the  original  inquiry,  blaming 
my  light  behavior  and  frivolous  interpolations 
for  the  mocking  character  of  the  manifestations. 
As  there  seemed  no  way  out  of  it,  and  I  secretly 
felt  somewhat  provoked  that  so  clever  a  lady 
should  insist  on  being  bamboozled,  I  one  even- 
ing determined  to  gratify  her,and  the  following  is 
a  near  reproduction  of  the  Planchetting — near 
enough  at  least,  to  give  an  idea  of  the  tenor 
of  the  whole : 

"  Will  not  Henrietta  communicate  with  me  ?  " 


204  My  Vacation. 

"  I  am  here  !" 

"  Why  did  you  never  come  before  ?  " 

"  Because  of  the  presence  of  others." 

"  What  had  their  presence  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  wished  to  see  you  alone." 

"  Ah,  now  we  have  it "  (to  me)  ;  "  this  is  real 
good.  Be  serious,  please  and  don't  laugh  and 
cut  up  ;  if  you  do  we  shall  not  get  any  more  sen- 
sible answers."  (To  Planchette  :)  "  Can  you  not 
visit  me  ? " 

"  I  am  with  you  often." 

"  When  ? " 

"  Always.     Every  where." 

"  When  is  your  presence  most  felt  ? *' 

"  In  dreams." 

"  What  are  dreams  ?  " 

"  Voices  and  echoes." 

"  Whose  voices  and  echoes  ?  " 

"  No  one's." 

"  No  one's  ?  that  is  a  strange  answer." 

I  suggested  that  perhaps  the  question  was  not 
rightly  put  ;  that  there  was  no  reason  to  assume 
that  persons  were  meant.  So  the  question  was 
amended  : 


My  Vacation,  205 

"  Voices  and  echoes  of  what  ? " 

"  Every  thing  in  nature." 

(I  rather  pride  myself  on  that ;  it  was  pretty, 
and  I  question  whether  many  mediums  could  im. 
prove  on  it  with  as  little  practice  as  I  had.) 

And  so  the  evening  passed — a  little  to  my 
amusement,  but  more  to  my  sorrow  when  I  came 
to  think  it  over.  All  manner  of  ghostly  things 
were  inquired  into,  and  there  I  sat  writing  down 
the  first  vague,  mystical  answer  which  came  into 
my  head.  And  speedy  punishment  followed,  for 
thereafter  I  was  kept  at  the  Planchette  board, 
like  the  musical  young  woman  of  the  season  at  a 
piano,  whole  evenings  through.  The  fame  of 
me  went  abroad  into  the  land,  and  I  was  invited 
out,  with  a  postscript  requesting  me  to  bring  my 
Planchette,  just  as  some  young  men  are  asked  to 
dine  and  come  with  their  horns  and  flutes.  There^ 
was  an  end  of  all  conversation  or  any  of  the  old 
time  amusements;  no  more  "slight  flitration  by 
the  light  of  a  chandelier ;"  I  had  to  seat  myselt 
and  ride  the  three-legged  till  midnight,  and  then 
home  to  a  night-mare.  This  was  in  itself  almost 
enough  to  tempt  me  to  confession  and  a  refor- 


206  My  Vacation. 

mation,  but  the  main  impelling  power  was  the 
seriousness  which  the  subject  was  assuming,  and 
the  sacredness  (to  me)  of  the  things  which  it  be- 
came necessary  to  trifle  with. 

So  one  day  I  split  the  mahogany  monster  down 
the  chine  with  a  carving-knife,  hacked  his  two 
halves  into  shavings,  and  gave  them  to  the  flames  ; 
taking  early  occasion  boldly  to  acknowledge  my 
former  wickedness  and  declare  my  resolve  to  re- 
form. More,  I  avowed  my  intention  of  writing 
out  my  confessions  for  the  benefit  of  those  yet 
in  the  bonds. 

Against  this  I  was  cautioned  ;  it  being  hinted 
to  me  that  though  /  might  be  stupid  and  bad 
enough  to  practice  such  a  senseless  cheat,  others 
were  honest  in  their  dealings  with  Planchette 
and  that  it  really  told  some  very  marvellous  things 
in  cases  where  deception  was  impossible.  For 
instance  (I  demanded  an  instance),  a  gentle- 
man in  the  northern  part  of  New  York,  whose 
wife  was  travelling  in  Europe,  asked  Planchette 
(operated  by  two  ladies,  strangers  to  both  him 
and  his  family)  where  his  wife  then  was,  and  the 
name  of  the  place  was  accurately  written. 


My  Vacation.  207 

I  must  confess  that  this  shook  me  a  little,  for 
I  knew  the  gentleman  well,  knew  how  incredu- 
lous he  was  in  articles  of  faith  more  established 
than  these  latter-day  miracles,  and  owned  to  my- 
self that  if  he  was  convinced,  there  might  be 
something  in  Planchette  despite  my  experience. 

It  happened,  however,  that  during  my  summer 
ramblings,  soon  after,  I  "  towered  "  through  that 
stretch  of  country,  and  spent  some  days  in  the 
vicinity.  At  a  dinner  one  day  I  met  a  lady  who 
chanced  in  the  afternoon  to  become  my  partner 
at  croquet.  During  the  intervals  of  the  game 
our  conversation  turned  on  Planchette,  and  I 
frankly  confessed  the  role  I  had  acted.  She  said 
she  never  had  hands  on  Planchette  but  once,  and 
that  then  she  displayed  a  power  which  surprised 
herself  and  others.  I  fancied  a  slight  smile  on 
her  face,  and  mentioned  the  astonishing  revela- 
tion which  had  been  described  to  me  as  occurring 
in  that  part  of  the  country.  The  smile  deepen- 
ed into  a  laugh  as  she  remarked  that  she  could 
tell  me  all  about  it,  having  been  one  of  the  per- 
formers. 

"  Now  tell  me  truly,"  said  I,  "  sub  rosa,  you 


208  My  Vacation. 

know — did  or  did  you  not  manufacture  that  mes- 
sage yourself  ? " 

She  owned  that  she  did,  but  declared  that 
she  sat  until  she  was  tired,  and  there  wasn't  much 
fun  in  that ;  so  when  Mr.  Pomeroy  asked  where 
his  wife  was  she  wrote  "  Ems,"  just  to  see  what 
they'd  say. 

"  But  you  were  a  stranger  to  her,  and  had  never 
met  him  before  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  how  do  you  know  she  was  at  Ems  ? " 

"Why  he  told  me  so  himself,  not  five  minutes 
before.  I  expected  when  I  wrote  it  that  he 
would  say  so  at  once,  but  he  didn't  remember 
telling  me — on  the  contrary  declaring  that  no  one 
in  the  room  but  himself  knew  his  wife's  wherea- 
bouts ;  so  I  thought  I'd  let  it  go." 

There  you  see  what  a  wonderful  fellow  Plan- 
chette  is,  when  you  come  to  sift  him  ! 

A  friend  not  long  since  was  telling  me  of  his 
investigations.  Planchette  was  manipulated  by 
two  young  ladies,  ex-officio  professors  of  the  art, 
and  he  had  been  asking  questions,  but  got  such 
silly  and  untrue  answers  that  he  was  about  to 


My  Vacation,  209 

give  up  in  disgust,  convinced  that  they  were 
making  game  of  him. 

But  a  thought  struck  him,  and  he  resolved  to 
give  the  thing  one  more  trial.  A  copy  of  Le 
Journal  pour  Rire,  which  he  had  just  received 
from  Paris,  lay  on  the  table  ;  the  name  of  its  ed- 
itor printed  in  very  small  letters  at  the  bottom 
of  the  last  page. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  the  name  of  the  ed- 
itor of  this  journal." 

They  wrote  "  Philippon." 

"  By  George  !  "  cried  he,  starting  up,  "  there 
is  something  strange  and  almost  unaccountable 
about  that.  I  know  that  neither  of  these  young 
ladies  knew  the  name  of  the  editor." 

"Oh  yes, /did,"  exclaimed  one  of  them,  lean- 
ing breathlessly  forward  ;  "  I  noticed  it  this 
morning,  and  wondered  what  they  printed  it  way 
down  there  for." 

The  ruling  feminine  passion  asserted  itself  there. 
Rather  than  admit  that  there  was  one  thing  she 
didn't  know,  she  lost  the  convert  she  was  endeavor- 
ing to  make.  Of  course  he  saw  nothing  strange 
and  unaccountable  in  the  writing  of  the  name 
(misspelt  at  that)  in  the  light  of  her  admission. 
^ 


2io  My  Vacation. 

Here  is  another  instance  of  how  easily  persons 
are  deceived  when  they  have  their  mouths  made 
up  for  the  wonderful : 

A  lady  residing  in  New  York  was  spending  the 
summer  at  a  mountain  village  in  New  Hampshire. 
Her  husband  undertook  to  send  her  all  the  news. 
When  Elliot  the  painter  died  he  telegraphed  to 
her,  "  Elliot — artist — dead."  The  dispatch  came 
in  the  afternoon,  and  she  did  not  make  it -public. 

That  evening  Planchette  was  on  the  table — all 
were  immensely  interested  in  that  gay  deceiver 
up  there.  A  gentleman  friend  of  Mr.  Elliot,  was 
present.  Having  an  idea  that  she  could  surprise 
them  a  little,  the  lady,  when  her  turn  came  to  put 
hands  on  the  board,  wrote  "  Elliot,"  repeating  the 
name  several  times. 

The  gentleman  wondered  if  any  thing  was 
wrong  with  his  friend.  When  he  last  saw  him 
the  artist  was  in  very  poor  health  ;  and  at  last  he 
asked,  "  Has  Mr.  Elliot  any  thing  to  say  to  me  ?  " 

She  then  wrote  the  telegram  she  had  received, 
word  for  word,"  Elliot — artist — dead !  " 

Of  course  all  present  were  very  much  aston 
ished,  and  the  gentlemen  was  not  a  little  distres- 


My  Vacation.  2  r  i 

ed — observing  that  certainly  this  was  very  strange  , 
'twould  be  remarkable  indeed  if  Elliot  were  re- 
ally dead  ;  in  any  event  they  would  know  to-mor- 
row. 

If  astonished  that  evening,  judge  of  the  sen- 
sation next  day,  when  news  came  through  pub- 
lic channels  that  the  artist  was  indeed  deceased. 
Could  any  doubt  be  entertained  of  the  mysterious 
power  of  Planchette  after  that  ? 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  instance  illustrates 
not  only  how  easy  it  is  to  deceive  people,  but  also 
how  naturally  the  best  disposed  persons  will  drift 
into  deception  when  such  tempting  opportunities 
present  themselves.  There  is  a  pleasure  in  mys- 
tifying others,  and  when  successfully  accomplish- 
ed the  delight  is  too  dear  to  sacrifice  it  all  by 
confessing  how  the  effect  was  produced.  But 
since  I  have  knelt  down  at  the  confessional  a  good 
many  practiced  Planchettists  have  joined  me. 
And  to  briefly  sum  up  for  the  benefit  of  all, 
when  you  can  pat  a  terrapin  on  the  back  and  get 
him  to  respond  in  Coptic  with  his  tail,  'twill  be 
time  to  persuade  me  that  a  block  of  wood  can 
be  ''  charged "  sufficiently  to  write  sentences. 


2i2  My  Vacation. 

Mine  was  charged  (it  stands  charged  against  me 
I  believe,  to  this  day),  but  it  would  only  write 
when  I  wrote — and  that  is  the  truth  of  it. 

The  above  was  written  and  printed  some  years 
ago.  In  the  meantime  Planchette  has  died  the 
death  and  now  there  are  none  so  poor  as  do  him 
reverence :  But  at  the  time  of  publication  I 
was  reviled  on  all  sides.  Time  has  vindicated 
me,  you  see,  for  had  Planchette  been  a  thing 
of  truth  it  would  have  remained  a  joy  for- 
ever. And  now  I  can  state  a  fact  not  generally 
known  perhaps.  The  Planchette  mania  was 
kindled  by  articles  descriptive  of  the  instrument 
republished  from  an  English  periodical.  The 
author  professed  to  have  found  one  in  use  in  a 
backwoods  house,  somewhere  in  Vermont,  and 
gave  a  marvellous  account  of  its  performance. 
Bu  the  has  since  told  a  friend  of  mine  that  the 
article  was  purely  imaginative  throughout ;  that 
he  never  saw,  and  indeed  never  heard  of  such  a 
thing;  'twas  fabricated  out  of  his  own  head. 
As  I  have  said  he  spoke  of  it  as  originating  in 
the  United  States,  and  being  in  frequent  use 


My  Vacation.  213 

here.  The  truth  of  it  is  a  Planchette  was  never 
known  in  this  country  or  any  where  else  until  put 
on  the  market  by  a  shrewd  stationer  who  con- 
rived  to  manufacture  it  from  the  fanciful  descrip- 
tion given  by  the  Englishman. 


J 


VACATION   VERSES. 


My   Vacation.  217 

AUTUMN  LEAVES. 

T«E  melancholy  days  have  come, 

Which  Mr.  Bryant  sings, 
Of  wailing  winds  and  naked  woods, 

And  other  cheerful  things. 

The  robin  from  the  glen  has  flown, 

And  there  Matilda  J. 
Now  roams  in  quest  of  autumn  leaves 

To  press  and  put  away. 

Leaves  in  the  sere,  to  school-girls  dear, 

Are  found  where'er  ope  looks, 
On  hill,  in  vale,  in  wood,  in  field, 

But  mostly  in  my  books. 

If  I  take  up  my  Unabridged 

Some  curious  word  to  scan, 
Rare  leaves  are  sped  of  green  and  red, 

Or  maybe  black  and  tan. 

The  book  of  books — my  Bible — now 

I  scarcely  dare  to  touch, 
Lest  it  bring  grief  to  some  rare  leaf — 

Ash,  maple,  oak,  or  such. 


2i8  My    Vacation. 

And  if  upon  the  lounge  I  lie 

To  read  while  I  repose, 
Lo  !  arid  leaves  in  dusty  sheaves 

Sift  down  upon  my  clothes. 

No  more  I  swear  in  empty  air, 

But  straight  invoke  a  broom, 
And  soon  St.  Bridget  comes  and  sweeps 

The  rubbish  from  the  room. 

O  autumn  leaves,  rare  autumn  leaves, 

So  lovely  out-of-doors, 
Strew  the  wild  wood  (you  could  or  should), 

But  muss  not  Christian  floors  ! 

Too  late  I  know  a  solemn  truth 

I  did  suspect  before  : 
These  leaves  that  autumn  branches  bear 

Are  an  autumnal  bore. 


My  Vacation.  219 


THE  FISHER'S  DAUGHTER. 

If  you  go  to  where  the  billow 
Tosses  on  its  rocky  pillow, 

In  an  ever  restless  pain ; 
Where  the  sea  in  vain  atoning 
Seemeth  ever  to  be  moaning 

Masses  for  the  sailors  slain ; 
You  may  see  a  little  maiden 
Waiting,  watching — weary  laden — 

Watching  all  the  live  long  day, 
If  she  haply  may  discover 
The  light  shallop  of  her  lover, 

Like  a  bird  upon  the  bay. 

Maiden,  said  I,  fisher's  daughter, 
Look  no  more  upon  the  water, 

Prithee  leave  this  mocking  shore ; 
Knows't  thou  not  that  foam-bellss  winging' 
Long  time  since  were  dirges  ringing, 

For  the  one  who  comes  no  more  ? 


220  My  Vacation. 

That  thy  sailor  lad  is  sleeping 
In  the  water-kelpie's  keeping, 

Leagues  of  ocean  far  away ; 
And  that  now  if  thou'ds't  discover 
The  light  shallop  of  thy  lover 

Thou  must  look  beyond  the  bay  ? 

But  the  maiden  still  is  sitting, 
And  she  fancies  in  the  flitting 

Of  each  bird  upon  the  bay, 
In  each  sea-gull's  pinion  glancing, 
That  she  sees  a  white  sail  dancing — 

William  on  his  homeward  way. 

And  you  may  not  chide  the  maiden — 
Even  I,  with  heart  sad-laden, 

When  the  silent  hours  are  nigh, 
Watch  and  wait,  and  fondly  dreaming, 
All  my  fancies  real  seeming, 

Gaze  upon  the  changing  sky. 
It  was  through  their  golden  portal 
That  there  went  a  lovely  mortal — 

Angels  know  she  did  not  die — 


My  Vacation.  221 

Now  I  gaze,  as  night  draws  nigher, 
Where  the  billowing  clouds  swell  higher, 
If  I  may  not  gain  some  tiding, 
See  some  silver  shallop  gliding 
Bearing  tiding  of  the  lost  one — 
Comfort  to  the  tempest-tost  one — 
So  I  sit,  thus  fondly  dreaming, 
All  my  fancies  real  seeming, 

Though  the  lips  of  reason  say : 
Cease  thy  longing,  luckless  wisher, 
With  the  daughter  of  the  fisher, 

Learn  to  look  beyond  the  bay. 


222  My  Vacation. 


SEA  AND  SHORE. 

THE  Sea  is  a  stern  old  monarch, 

As  cruel  as  monarch  may  be  ; 
And  navies  they  quail  and  pilots  turn  pale 

At  the  sway  of  his  sceptre,  my  Sea. 

The  earth  is  a  sullen  old  baron, 

Morose  as  a  baron  may  be ; 
And  he  watches  all  day  from  his  rock-towers  gray, 

For  he  feareth  his  cousin,  the  Sea. 
The  sea  is  a  cruel  old  monarch, 

The  earth  but  a  baron  is  he ; 
But  of  Christian  souls  more  have  been  wrecked 
on  shore 

Than  ever  were  lost  at  sea. 


My  Vacation.  223 

DAS  MEERM^EDCHEN. 


Oh  Spring  is  blithe  and  Summer  gay 
The  Autumn  golden  and  Winter  gray. 

But  the  seasons  come  and  the  seasons  go, 
All  alike  to  me  in  their  ebb  and  flow, 

Since  the  day  I  rode  by  the  cheating  sea, 
And  one  of  its  maidens  had  speech  with  me. 

Her  skin  was  whiter  than  words  can  speak, 
The  blush  of  the  sea-shell  lit  her  cheek ; 

Her  lips  had  ripened  in  coral  caves, 
Her  eyes  were  blue  as  the  deeper  waves  ; 

And  her  fair  yellow  hair  fell  fair  and  free 
In  a  shower  of  amber  upon  the  sea. 

"  Knight,  gallant  knight,  a  boon  I  pray  : 
Give  me  to  ride  thy  charger  gray." 
"  Oh,  ships  for  the  sea,  but  steeds  for  the  shore, 
I'll  give  thee  a  boat  with  a  golden  oar !  " 

"  Nay,  gallant  knight,  no  charm  has  the  sea ; 
I  would  dwell  on  the  green  earth  ever  with  thee." 

For  her  speech  was  fair  as  her  face  was  fair  ; 
Had  she  asked  my  soul  it  was  hers,  I  swear. 


224  My   Vacation . 

And  I  led  her  as  light  as  sea-birds  flit 
Where  my  steed  stood  champing  his  golden  bit. 

The  stirrups  of  silver  were  wrought  in  Spain  ; 
My  hand  into  hers  put  the  silken  rein. 

And  that  is  the  last,  though  the  stars  are  old, 
I  saw  of  my  steed  with  his  housings  of  gold. 

Was  ever  such  folly  in  all  the  world  wide  ; 
But  who  would  have  thought  a  mermaid  could  ride. 

Or  a  maiden  of  earth,  of  air,  or  the  wave, 
Should  fly  from  her  love  with  the  wings  he  gave  ? 

Faithless  and  loveless  I  walk  by  the  shore, 
Never  a  maiden  has  speech  with  me  more. 

But  this  brings  not  back  my  charger  gray, 
Nor  the  false,  false  love  who  rode  him  away. 


The  New  Song.  225 

THE  NEW  SONG. 
The  ship,  the  ship,  the  good  old  ship  ! 
She's  bound  to  make  a  jolly  trip  ; 
Spare  captains  two,  and  clergy  three, 
I  'm  sure  the  ship  can't  sink  at  sea. 

The  Golden  Gate  !  the  Golden  Gate  ! 
We're  bound  to  reach  it  soon  or  late  ; 
We'll  stem  the  San  Juan's  rolling  flood 
If  they  don't  stick  us  in  the  mud. 

The  transit  route  will  not  be  cool — 
Crossing  the  Isthmus  on  a  mule  ; 
Go  in  a  coach  you  who  agree, 
But  get  a  pacing  mule  for  me. 

Some  men  have  wives  upon  the  spot — 
Some  seem  to  have  them  who  have  not ; 
Deck  promenades  are  very  fine, 
But  don't  walk  off  with  wife  of  mine. 

It  is  no  harm,  one  kiss  or  more — 
But  do  it  all  behind  the  door ; 
The  art  of  kissing  seems  to  me 

Is  not  to  let  the  others  see  ! 
10* 


226  The  New  Song. 

Lights  out  at  ten  !  lights  out  at  ten  ! 

If  that's  the  law,  we  say  amen ; 

The  moon  is  left,  and  so  is  Mars, 

Thank  Heaven  they  can't  blow  out  the  stars. 

Havana  is  a  pretty  place  : 
But,  Captain,  in  the  name  of  grace, 
When  all  its  lamps  are  plain  in  sight, 
Why  don't  you  "  tie  up  "  for  the  night  ? 

We  stop  to  sound  upon  the  sea, 
But  of  all  sounds,  the  gong  for  me ; 
I  don't  like  iron,  but  after  all 
The  oxide's  better  than  the  ball. 

The  time  draws  near  when  we  must  part, 
So  says  the  captain  and  the  chart ; 
The  opera  troupe  must  troop  on  shore — 
Our  Prima  Donna  '11  be  no  MOORE. 

Perhaps  the  warmest  heart  may  cool, 
Crossing  the  Isthmus  on  a  mule ; 
But  when  the  voyage  is  safely  through, 
Remember  those  that  sung  for  you. 


At  the  Ball!  227 

AT  THE  BALL  ! 

Is  the  ball  very  stupid,  ma  mignonne  ? 

Pauvre  petite,  you  look  ennuied  to  death — 
There  is  Bete — riest-ce  pas  ?  in  your  eye, 

And  a  soupfon  of  yawn  in  your  breath. 

Of  a  truth  It  is  stupid,  ma  mignonne  ; 

The  giver  is  wrinkled  and  gray  ! 
The  dances  are  older  than  Rome, 

And  the  dancers  as  well  are  passe. 

The  wine  that  they  give  us,  ma  mignonne, 
Is  but  v$n  ordinaire,  thin  and  poor, — 

It  comes  from  a  shop  in  Rue  Jacques, 
And  it  cost  but  ten  sous,  I  am  sure. 

There's  a  ghost  stirring  somewhere,  ma  mignonne  ; 

The  lamps  all  burn  dimly  and  low, 
And  the  music  would  do  for  La  Morgue — 

Allons  ! not  quite  yet 1  won't  go. 

Come  sit  on  \\\\<->  fauteuil,  ma  mignonne, 
And  show  me  the  make  of  that  glove. 

It  is/ouvin,  I  think now  you're  wicked  ! 

Reste  tranquille  im  moment,  that's  a  love. 


228  At  the  Ball! 

Who  called  the  ball  stupid,  ma  mignonne  ? 

'Tis  the  best  we  have  had  for  a  week  ; 
The  dances  are  lively  enough, 

And  for  music— / attends,  please  to  speak  ' 

One  glass  a  ta  sante,  ma  mignonne  ; 

On  the  rim  of  my  cup  print  a  kiss — 
Never  tell  me  again  of  Bordeaux ; 

There's  no  red  wine  in  life  like  to  this  ! 

Who  said  lamps  burned  dimly,  ma  mignonne  ? 

Look,  the  salon  is  lighter  than  day — 
It  was  queer,  to  find  fault  with  the  light ! 

Not  enough  !  there's  too  much,  verit'e. 

At  what  time  did  ta  maman,  ma  mignonne, 
Suggest  that  the  carriage  should  call  ? 

Sainte  Vierge  f  it  is  striking  the  hour — 
Do  you  wish  to  go  home  from  the  ball  ? 

THE    END. 


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